


Undersworn

by DistractedAuthor32



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Epic, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Scientific Magic system
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-01 01:55:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 27,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13988040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DistractedAuthor32/pseuds/DistractedAuthor32
Summary: Long ago, two races ruled over Earth: HUMANS and MONSTERS. One day, war broke out— Oh? You've heard that one before, haven't you? But do you know how it ends? Of course not. With DETERMINATION, there are no true endings now are there? After Genocide, Chara takes Frisk's soul and resets the timeline. A hero will rise to stop the cycle. Born of six, taught by six, he is one.





	1. Beginnings and Endings

_Long ago, two races ruled over Earth: HUMANS and MONSTERS._

_One day, war broke out—_

_Oh? You've heard that one before, haven't you? Hmm… I see. But do you know how it ends? Of course not. With DETERMINATION, there are no_ true _endings now are there? Just as there is no one true beginning. Not really. However, I can tell you of_ an _ending. Perhaps even one you haven't heard before. Let me tell you about how honor came to the underground…_

* * *

Frisk hadn't killed anybody this time. That wasn't to say he was a good person. No, at one point, some timelines ago, Frisk had gone a bit more… Genocidal. Although, the lad probably wouldn't want us referring to the creature that emerged from that timeline by his name anymore. He had become something different. Now, where should I begin…

* * *

Sans ignored the blistering heat emanating from the glowing magma beneath the path. He leaned against the warm steel of the elevator, closing his eyes and half dozing off. Everybody else had evacuated left for the surface a few days ago. Sans had joined them, but he still had some business to attend to. Hotland was silent. Not in the traditional sense though. The constant bubbling of the place's signature magma mixed with the distant sounds of the Core and the frequent hissing of steam vents to make an often-overwhelming cacophony of sound. No, this was the silence that came from Sans knowing he was the only living thing around. No monsters. No humans. Just, silence. He was alone.

Until suddenly, he wasn't.

* * *

Frisk cuddled into his warm blankets, breathing softly. He could see the twinkling of stars through the window. Real stars, not the sparkling crystals of the underground. He sighed contentedly.

* * *

Sans opened one eye. Standing beside the elevator was a short, humanoid, wide-eyed monster. His species was familiar, but the coloration was off. This one was slate gray, and unnaturally still. He was the reason Sans was here.

"heya." Sans said, flashing a lazy smile. "whatcha doin' here?" The figure didn't respond. It kept gazing out, unblinking, over the craggy expanse of Hotland. The monster's silence wasn't what bothered Sans. He understood the urge to stand around and not do anything all day more than most. The thing that unnerved Sans, was that this monster didn't seem to have an entire soul. When Sans looked to see how much EXP or LOVE the monster had acquired, he didn't find any. That wasn't a testament to the monster's innocence either. The monster didn't have a place large enough to keep any LOVE. The sliver of light that passed for the culmination of its being shouldn't have been strong enough to gather enough magic to manifest a body the size of a dust particle. Yet here the monster was.

"maybe i should ask a better question." Sans said, steeling himself for what he knew was about to come. "There's a guy I wanna talk to. I think you know him, but for some reason I can't think of his name." The monster's head didn't move, but its pupils darted to the side, meeting Sans' one-eyed stare. For a brief moment, the faint light of the monster's soul flickered, like a candle being blown out. Sans' hand shot forward, his eye igniting, flaring like a blue coal burning in its socket. He caught the monster's soul, gripping it tight before it could slip away. The faint splinter of light suspended in the monster's chest turned a shining blue, the power of the magic far greater than the weak soul's innate strength.

* * *

Frisk's door creaked open slowly and Toriel took a few quiet steps into the bedroom. With a kind smile, she set a piece of Frisk's favorite pie on the floor. She stood up, brushed herself off, and strode out of the room, closing the door behind her.

* * *

Sweat beaded on Sans' skull as he struggled to hold the apparition together. His eye blazed blue, smokeless cobalt flames licking up out of the socket. The effort to contain the soul fragment was immense. Sans guessed he might be able to hold it for a few more seconds, at most.

"c'mon, say something." Sans said, smiling fiercely through his exertion. A faint, mirthless grin touched the gray monster's lips, and for the first time it spoke to Sans.

"The doctor will want to see you soon." Then the monster blinked away, its soul slipping through Sans' grasp into the inky blackness from which it had sprung. Sans collapsed to the ground, panting.

* * *

Frisk felt a churning in his soul. No longer in control, he saw through eyes that were not his own anymore as Chara woke up in his place. Raucous laughter reverberated through their combined being as Frisk felt Chara reach for their Determination.

* * *

Sans sat there on the warm rocks, huffing and wondering what the monster had meant, when he felt a tugging at his soul.

"that kid—" He growled.

* * *

But Sans never finished that sentence. In fact,  _that_  Sans never truly existed again. Contrary to what he believed though, in his final moment, his accomplishment wasn't for naught. He had attracted the attention of… another, powerful force. An I'm not simply talking about myself.

* * *

**RESET**

* * *

Frisk groaned slightly and sat up from the cushion of golden flowers. His bed had been far more comfortable. He felt a hissing in the back of his mind. No, not from his mind, from his soul. Chara.

" _Do you remember their smiles? Did you feel their joy as they joined with you in 'friendship?'"_  Frisk shivered, but couldn't ignore the voice.  _"But you were never truly their friend. I indulge your playful fantasies because everything is made sweeter by contrast. Come now, this time, we make them burn."_  Frisk couldn't resist Chara's impulse. She was the one that really held his soul, and with it, the Determination. Rising from the flowers, as he had so many times before, Frisk strode toward the room where he knew Toriel would be waiting to guide them through the Ruins.  _Waiting for me to kill her._

* * *

Asgore stood alone, staring at the six human souls floating in front of him. Each was trapped in a containment unit devised by the royal science department some time ago. The machines were complex and remarkable feats of scientific and magical engineering. Despite that, they reminded him of the simple glass jars he and Toriel had used to keep homemade jam in. Jams of all different flavors and hues… as many colors of jam as there were souls floating in front of him. Except with the jams he had never felt like they were judging him. The souls were restless. Much more than usual. The orange one darted about in its container as if it were searching for a means of escape. The others moved as well, although with less vigor. The only one that wasn't moving was the light greenish-blue one, which sat perfectly still, like always, suspended in its container.

The souls worried him. They had never been this active, not even when they were first… collected. With a dejected sigh Asgore pulled his phone from a pocket on the inside of his robe and fumbled with it for a moment before calling Dr. Alphys. She picked up in just a few seconds.

"H-hello? Asgore? What is it?"

"Dr. Alphys," he began, "the human souls, they seem agitated."

"Oh no! Have they gotten out? Are the containment units broken? No no no, this is my fault! I should have checked them last time I was at the palace!"

"No, the containment units are fine." Asgore assured the worried scientist. "They just seem upset, flitting around and such."

"And they don't normally, flit, as you said it?"

"No, not normally. Maybe they're uncomfortable." Asgore said.

"You're worried that they're uncomfortable?" Alphys asked, with more than a little confusion.

"Yes."

"Well, I guess I could look into developing some new containers if you're concerned." Alphys said.

"Could you?" Asgore replied with a smile.

"Sure. I could dig up the old blueprints and look for anything I can do. It shouldn't take long."

"Thank you Alphys." Asgore said.

"No problem sir." Alphys said, with only a little less confusion than before. Asgore turned off the phone and placed it back into its pocket. Taking one last look at the souls, Asgore turned and left. He couldn't' just sit around and stare at the souls all day. He was a king, he had things to do.

* * *

Alphys nervously tapped her foot as she shuffled through sheaves of blueprints and plans for various machines, looking for the original designs for the human soul canisters. Whenever she moved the papers a small cloud of dust would puff out. These were old plans. In fact, Alphys hadn't been the original one to design them. She had merely made "improvements" to the canisters. Variations that allowed her to conduct her… failed experiments. She had tried, she really had, but her specialties were in robotics and engineering. Soul power was an art she still couldn't fully comprehend. Sure, she was the foremost expert in the Underground on the subject, but she couldn't hold a tiny, LED light to the expertise of the team of scientists that had originally designed the human soul capsules.

The plans must have been from just before the war. Much knowledge had been lost in the monsters' hurried flight underground. Especially knowledge of human souls.

Alphys found the paper she was looking for. A reference sheet, telling her where the full blueprints would be in the lab's records room. Her spirits fell a little when she saw they were on a high shelf. Honestly, whoever had built this place should have been a little more sympathetic towards smaller statured monsters.

Alphys turned to go to the records room and jumped in surprise. She could have sworn she had been alone a second ago, but now, standing nonchalantly in the middle of her lab was a short, grinning, blue-coat-wearing skeleton.

"what's up?" He asked.

"Sans! What are you doing here?" Alphys asked flustered.

"i forgot exactly." Sans said, "i woke up thinking something about a doctor wanting to see me. did you invent something that interferes with my naps? because if you did, that's a problem." Alphys rolled her eyes and gave Sans a derisive snort.

"I didn't do anything like that! I have real work to do! Important things, for Asgore!" She said, a little too defensively.

"like what?" Sans asked peeking at the reference sheet Alphys was holding.

"Secret stuff."

"considering almost everything on this page is about the core, most of the rest is outdated, and no construction has been done on the core in decades, i assume you're working on the soul jar thingies. right?" Alphys paled into a slightly lighter shade of orange.

"No! Well… yes, but that's none of your business." She said. "Speaking about your business, don't you have work you should be doing right now?"

"do i have work to do? yes. should i be doing it right now? also yes. am i actually going to do it? probably not."

"You're a sentry, right? Sentries are supposed to always be alert. Looking for intruders." Alphys said.

"what's gonna come through snowdin? a human? what are the chances a human is going to come out of those woods in the time i've been gone?"

"Surprisingly high." Alphys said, her gaze shifting to something over Sans' shoulder.

"really?" Sans raised an eyebrow at Alphys, which was quite impressive considering the fact he didn't have eyebrows. "why do you say that?" Alphys pointed at the screen behind Sans. Displayed on the monitor was the form of a small human walking through the forest. A child by the looks of it. Wearing a striped shirt. "huh. well whad'ya know." Sans said.

For a moment, the two of them sat staring at the child through the monitor. It passed through Papyrus' gate, approaching Sans' sentry station.

"Ohmygosh ohmygosh ohmygosh!" Alphys exclaimed, snapping out of her reverie. "I need to tell Asgore, I need to tell Mettat—" She cut herself off, glancing at Sans. He was staring at the image on the screen, strangely silent. Looking closer at the child, Alphys quieted herself as well. Something about the human was… off. It's odd shuffling gait, the blank look on its face, the dust caking its hands…  _The dust_. Alphys gasped, clasping her hands over her mouth. "I-i-it looks d-d-dangerous." She managed to squeak out. Now that she had looked closer, that child drove a spike of fear into her heart. Sans still hadn't moved.

On the screen, a little snowdrake floated up to the human. The human struck down the young monster with the casual grace of a seasoned killer. An audible crack split the room, and suddenly Sans was gone. A moment later he appeared on the screen and began speaking to the human, looking as friendly and relaxed on the surface as he ever had. His brother soon joined him. Speaking loudly and with many flourishes and poses.

A shiver passed through Alphys' body despite the Hotland heat. She picked up her phone and dialed furiously. She had a few calls to make.


	2. Six Souls

A faint cloud of dust seemed to follow Frisk as he stalked through the final corridors of Waterfall. He was dragging the murdered corpses of dozens of monsters with him, clinging to his clothes, matting his hair. In some sick, twisted part of his mind, Frisk enjoyed it. He could almost feel strings tugging him along, urging him forward in his shuffling gait, guiding his hand as he struck out at innocent monsters. At first, he dismissed it as Chara's influence, but the thrill he had felt when he fought Undyne, the triumph at seeing her die at his feet, that had come from  _him_.

Frisk seemed to crash into a wave of heat, emanating from the lava pools that gave Hotland its name. He strode past Sans' empty guard station, still bearing snow. The silver, blocky structure of Alphys' lab drew closer. Many of the Underground's denizens saw it as a beacon of hope. A monument to the accomplishments of their civilization, and the birthplace of their greatest idol. To Frisk, it as something different. Long ago, it had been the place where he had met good friends for the first time. Frisk felt a twinge of sadness as he thought back, back to when this had all felt like some silly game to him. Even then, it had never been as pure as he thought it, as pure as the sterile metallic walls would suggest. It was a tombstone, placed to seal away the secret buried underneath.

The smooth doors to the lab slid open at a touch from Frisk, revealing the lab's dim interior to him. Mettaton stood in the center of the blue-tiled floor. The robot began to speak, but Frisk ignored him. The words were familiar and bored him. He examined the lab closer. It seemed even messier than usual. In addition to the yellowed pages that covered Alphys' desk and floor, there were several mechanical parts strewn about haphazardly, most of them torn apart in some way.

Frisk took a step towards Mettaton and brandished the torn notebook he held in his hand. The robot said another few words, then fled, leaving Frisk alone again. He started forward again, leaving the lab and entering the blistering heat of Hotland again. Frisk adjusted his grip on the notebook. He'd never read what was written inside. To be honest, he didn't really care. There was killing to be done.

* * *

To the common outsider, the Underground was bleak and uninspiring. Buried beneath Mount Ebott with no sunlight, harsh environments, and little space compared to the surface, a cursory glance may leave a bystander with a poor opinion of the place. A slightly closer look however would reveal majesties that many of the cavern's denizens have grown used to. The soaring ceilings decorated with luminous crystals, awe inspiring Hotland and shining Snowdin, even the magnificent architecture of the capital has been known leave poets at a loss for words.

Even so, the Underground in the aftermath of a particular human child, in a timeline in which they have committed themselves to terrible atrocities, can be bleaker than any surface dweller might have initially imagined it. Filled with suffocating silence, broken only by the low whimpers of monsters afraid to venture beyond their hiding places lest they be slain like others they had known, left to be dust, drifting on the breeze.

The Underground was ruled by fear, everywhere except for three places. The first was a small workroom behind a wooden house, seldom used, but now filled with furious sounds of twisting metal and magic. A last-ditch attempt by a desperate monster to right all these wrongs. Or, at least, bring justice to those that deserved it. The second was a dark room where a robotic superstar prepared itself for its final show. The third place followed a small, insecure scientist as she tried exude confidence and save whoever she could.

* * *

Alphys fought down her trembling as she urged the last few monsters into the elevator, where they would be taken to safety. She stepped into the elevator herself, and the doors shut, and the elevator began to move. Snowdin was desolated, as was Waterfall. She had evacuated as many monsters as she could from Hotland, but now the human was here, and she couldn't stay. Mettaton was confronting it, buying a few more precious seconds for them to leave. Every life they could save was a victory, and they had few enough of those against the human. Alphys had always wondered how the monsters had lost so soundly to the human armies during the war, but if this was what all the human soldiers were like, it was a wonder any monsters had survived at all.

Each monster reacted differently to their situation. Some were rendered nearly catatonic with fear, others wailed with grief for lost loved ones. The most bizarre reaction Alphys had seen had been from Sans. The silly skeleton had lost all joviality once the human had killed his brother. He's actually asked for the blueprints she had been looking for when they had talked earlier.  _He must need something technical to keep his mind off the grief._ Alphys thought as the doors to the elevator opened into the city, an emergency function the Hotland elevators possessed, in case of circumstances like this. Alphys had always thought it unnecessary, but now she admired the architect's foresight. She ushered the monsters out of the elevator and sent it back to Hotland, just in case some poor monster was able to get away from the human.

Alphys scurried through the crowded streets toward the castle. The keening and wailing of monsters filled the air, seeming to come from everywhere at once. Alphys tried to block out the sound. She couldn't afford to break down, not now. At the gate to the castle, the royal guards recognized her and rushed her inside. She hurried through grandiose hallways, carved into the mountain itself by master stonemasons. With almost an air of reverence, Alphys entered the throne room, where king Asgore answered petitions on behalf of his people, and where he met the challenges of fallen humans that made it this far. Asgore stood beside his throne, holding his crown in his hands and staring at it. Alphys heard him let out a long, drawn-out sigh.

"Am I a good king, doctor?" He asked solemnly, still not looking at her.

"Of course! You're the best king we've ever had!" Alphys reassured him, a nervous twinge in her voice. Asgore let out a mirthless chuckle.

"For most, of my subjects, I'm the only king they've ever known. No Alphys, I do not believe I am a good king. Had you not warned me when you did, I would have spent the day at the barrier, thinking. There, I would be cut off from all communication. My people would have been slaughtered without me so much as knowing. Even so, with your warning, I have sat here and done nothing for my citizens. So many have died out there while I sit here, a coward, waiting for the human to come to me. No Alphys, if I were a good king I would have sought out the human myself, instead of waiting for it to come to me. Like Undyne."  _And Mettaton,_  Alphys thought to herself.

"But if you died, who would lead us? What would we do?" She asked. Asgore began to respond when something caught his eye, and he turned away from Alphys, and seemed to address someone standing behind the throne, hidden from Alphys' view.

"Why, hello. Who are you? And how did you get there?" Out from behind the throne stepped Sans, laboriously dragging an awkward looking bundle behind him. Alphys blinked in surprise and exclaimed,

"Sans! What are you doing here?" The skeleton smiled slightly.

"just a little to help out where i can."

"I am sorry dear skeleton, but I am afraid that you must leave. You too Alphys. We are funneling the human here, to fight me. If I lose, hopefully it will simply pass through the barrier and you will be safe." Asgore said, in his most kingly voice. Sans dropped the bundle he was carrying, and it made a metallic clinking sound as it hit the tile floor, just next to a patch of Asgore's golden flowers.

"sorry pal, but trust me. you need me here." Sans said. He turned to Alphys. "you built mettaton right? you managed to build a robot with a soul?" Alphys nodded. It had been her greatest accomplishment, and the achievement for which she'd been given a position as the royal scientist.

"Yes, of course. Why do you ask?" Alphys replied. Sans bent down and untied the bundle he'd been carrying. Inside was a machine, roughly cylindrical in shape, with a few bits poking out the sides and top. Alphys recognized many of the components. In fact, it was very similar to the soul canisters Asgore had asked Alphys to upgrade earlier, just before the human came. Except, those things on the sides… they were magical energy manipulation nodes, scrapped from the lasers that defended Hotland by the look of them. Except they had been reworked. Specialized. In fact, they were very similar to devices she had given Mettaton, to give him more freedom to manipulate his magic attacks in his human eradication form. Alphys realized what Sans was implying she do.

"No. No! You want me to put a  _human soul_  in that thing? It would be able to use outward manifestations of magic! And we would be using the soul of a human  _we_ killed! Do you want all of us to die!" Alphys exclaimed.

"i don't want you to put  _a_ human soul in it." Sans explained. "i want you to put  _all of them_  in it." Alphys stood still, shocked. Asgore glanced back and forth between them, confused.

"Excuse me? Is this… machine… a container for human souls?" The king asked. Sans winked at him.

"yep."

"And it would…" Asgore sought for words for a moment, "allow them to interact with the world? Without being absorbed by a monster?"

"yep."

"And you think this is a good idea?"

"yep."

"Wouldn't it be more effective for me to absorb the souls and fight the human?" Asgore asked.

"Of course it would!" Alphys snapped

"nope." Sans replied.

"Why not?" Asgore asked the skeleton. Sans stared at the king.

"if you absorb the human souls, you would become far more powerful than the 'human.' you would have the power to obliterate them from this timeline. over, and over, and over again, until they gave up." Sans closed his eyes, hands in his pockets. "but you wouldn't. it would come time to strike the killing blow, and you would hesitate. all you would see is a frightened child cowering before you, and for a split second, you would freeze." Sans opened one eye, and it blazed with cobalt flames, casting Asgore in a faint blue light. "i can see it in you. you would hesitate, and they would not. their hate would allow them to strike you down. you would fail us." Sans closed his eyes again. Asgore looked down at his feet in shame, not contradicting the skeleton's words. Alphys shuffled her feet nervously.

"And you—" Asgore met Sans' piercing gaze and gestured at the machine on the floor, "you really think that  _this_ is a better way?" Sans chuckled.

"not by much. but it's the best bet we got. alphys, i trust you can put the souls in the device?" Sans asked.

"I-I'm not really sure…" She stammered.

"great. you better jump to it. the human will be getting close." Sans said as he turned and began to walk away.

"What if Mettaton stops them?" Alphys asked.

"mettaton can't stop them." Sans said, and kept walking.

"Wait. Where are you going?" Asgore inquired.

"to buy us some time." Sans answered.

"No offense, but how much can you really do? It appears that you have very little HP." He replied. Sans paused for a moment, then responded,

"hopefully, i can do enough." Then the skeleton disappeared into thin air, startling Asgore.

"What—" He began to say.

"He does that sometimes." Alphys said with a sigh.

* * *

Wide stone corridors echoed with Frisk's footsteps, Mettaton's commendable, but ultimately  _utterly useless_ resistance left behind. Chara's musical laugh sounded in the back of his mind, and she whispered to him again.

" _Things are different this time. Just a little bit. I can tell. Can you?"_  Frisk kept walking, dragging his feet on the floor, leaving footprints of dust behind him. His hands were slate gray with the stuff.  _"Sans didn't meet us at his station like usual, and he never asked us to hide behind that_ stupid _lamp. You know, I think we're going to do this again next time, to see if the changes stick."_ Frisk's pace didn't waver. He stared ahead unblinkingly.  _"Hey, the fool comedian should be just up ahead right? Fighting him is_ always  _a pleasure."_ Frisk stepped out onto the golden tiles of the judgement hall. He strode forward between massive pillars, holding up the vaulted ceiling above when Sans appeared, seeming to pop into existence out of Frisk's blind spot.

"heya." Sans said.

"you've been busy, huh?"

* * *

"Alright, alright. I… I think I can do this." Alphys managed to say, taking a deep breath. The six canisters containing the human souls were arranged out in front of her in a circle around the one Sans built. "He added class III magical feedback suppressors, which should make it easier."

"Suppressors?" Asgore inquired.

"Without a monster's soul to bind them together, the human souls resist being so close together. They would repel each other and force themselves out of the device. It's one of the laws of souls."

"Yes, of course." Asgore murmured, obviously with no idea what Alphys was talking about.

"So, did that skeleton—"

"Sans." Alphys clarified.

"Sans, yes. Did Sans just have this device, laying around somewhere?" Asgore asked incredulously. Alphys shook her head.

"No, I think he just built it. He asked me for the plans to the original soul canisters earlier today."

"He built this in just a day?"

"A little less." Alphys confirmed. "When Sans actually works, he works fast."

"Hmm." Asgore stroked his beard. "How did you meet this Sans?" Alphys cocked her head.

"You know, that's strange…"

"What?"

"I don't remember." A loud crash thundered through the room, coming from the direction the human would be coming from.

"Is that…" Asgore began.

"Sans." Alphys said gravely. "Come on. We need to get to work." Alphys fiddled with a few tiny, barely noticeable mechanisms on each of the canisters before stepping back.

"Ok, ok. Asgore, you've moved the souls before, right?" She asked.

"When putting them into the containers originally, yes." He replied.

"Alright, just move them close to the device. I'll take care of binding them to the machinery." Alphys said. "I'll release them in three. Two. One. Now!" The lids to the canisters released, and six human souls shot into the air. They began to spiral towards the machine in the center of the circle they made, pushed by Asgore's magic. They spun faster and faster until eventually, they were nearly touching the device. Alphys reached out with her magic and tried to use the process she had before, with Mettaton. This was so much harder. Human souls were thousands of times stronger than monster souls, and there were  _six_ of them! But Alphys had to try. She gritted her teeth and pushed, binding the souls to the metal, joining them with magic…

* * *

A lot of people wonder what happens to you after you die. They wonder what it's like. Clover would tell them, he would tell them it was dark, empty, and unbelievably boring. At least, it was in his case. When most people die, their souls aren't harvested by monster kings and shoved in jars, so Clover might have been a special case.

But, things were different now. Clover could feel it. He wasn't alone anymore. There were others. Five of them. Purple, blue, cyan, green, and orange. And him, yellow. He could feel them, he  _knew_  them. Each one exuded a cardinal virtue. Perseverance, integrity, patience, kindness, and bravery. In himself he felt one too. Fitting, based on the events of his journey through the Underground. Justice.

Together with the other souls, they were stronger. With all that power, they could exist as more than just souls.

* * *

Alphys sat on the stone floor of the soul vault, panting. She could see the souls in there. She had done it, she had bound them to the device. It wasn't doing anything though. The souls just continued their spinning inside the canister. She had expected it to be far more dramatic.

"I'm sorry." Asgore comforted her. "I guess we will just have to find another way."

The device began to glow.

"Wait, wait I think it's working!" Alphys said, a smile coming across her face. The light began to pulse, growing brighter each time. With one final flash it reached a crescendo, the light searing Alphys and Asgore's eyes, but they couldn't look away. When the light faded, a figure stood before them, composed of the brilliant light they had just seen. It appeared in the image of a human, features obscured by the brilliance of its form. It raised its head toward them. It addressed the king and the scientist with a voice that resonated through the room emphasizing each word, and speaking in a tone, that left no doubt as to the fact that they were smiling when they said it. Smiling a genuine smile.

"You, have no idea how good it feels to exist."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Communication from the Wordsmith (because Author's Note is too mainstream): There you go. Something interesting happened, are you happy now? Because I am, the rest of this is what I'm really excited to write. Also, no reviews still, huh? That's fine, that's fine (passive aggressiveness 113%). Any questions you have, I will answer. Whether or not it is the answer you're looking for, depends on the question.


	3. RESET

Darkness crept in around the edges of Sans' vision. The human struck again, the blade slicing through the air just to Sans' left, glinting in the sun streaming in through the windows. With a thought, he shot several dozen bones at them in return, spinning and spiraling in complex patterns he had perfected to be nearly impossible to avoid. The human evaded all of them with barely a scratch to show for it. Dodging another attack, Sans gritted his teeth and redoubled his efforts. Giant canine skulls wheeled through the air expelling beams of luminous energy, flashing blue attacks and ominous cages of bones filled the room, slicing back and forth. The human danced through it all with wild abandon, always advancing on Sans, forcing him to dodge strike, after strike, after strike. One wild slash got a little too close for comfort, and Sans reached out to touch the human's soul, however vile it was. He turned it blue, slamming the human to the floor, then the ceiling, the walls, the floor again. Each time the human twisted itself midair, landing on its feet and jumping just before deadly bones skewered them to whatever surface Sans had forced them onto.

Exhaustion wracked Sans' body. Each time he evaded a blow from the human, it became harder. Still he forced himself to fight, his attacks only getting stronger, faster, more complex. He couldn't afford to lose. If the human got past him, all would be lost. Nobody was behind him to finish the job. Or was this time different? The only way to find out was to keep fighting. Buy Alphys the time she needed. If his plan worked, they might get an end to all of this. If it didn't, hey, who could blame a skeleton for trying?

The sounds of energy blasts filled the judgement hall, overlaid by the crackling of twisting bones and the occasional thump as Sans slammed the human into various surfaces in attempts to throw it off guard. Just one mistake from the human was all Sans needed, all he needed to doom its quest to kill  _everyone_. But then again, it would just try again right? Death was no object to this fiend. It would come back, over, and over, and over again. It would try until…

A wave of ethereal energy washed over the room, causing a shudder to pass through Sans' body, momentarily throwing him off balance. His attack went wild, crashing into one of the room's many grand pillars, the magic dissipating off of the stone. Seeing its opportunity, the human attacked, carving a wide gash through Sans' chest. He looked down at the wound with surprise, as did the human. Neither of them had expected him to go down this early.

With a grunt, Sans fell back onto the ground, clutching the wound with one hand, and holding himself in a sitting position with his other. He could feel his soul trying to break and dissolve into the void, but Sans forced it to stay, tying him to this world for just a few moments longer.

"guess i lost this one, huh?" Sans said, forcing a smile. That feeling, what had it been? The human hadn't noticed it. He guessed it didn't matter anymore. He was about to die, then he would wake up again without any memory of this day, to live out this petty human's power fantasy again.

As he felt himself begin to drift off, Sans caught a glimpse of a bright light out of the corner of his eye. Forcing his body to comply, he turned his head to look. The human did as well. A glowing figure strode into the hall, its finer features obscured by the luminescent halo around its body. A faint chuckle ran through Sans' body. Alphys had pulled it off. It looked like his plan had worked after all. "oh bud, ya should've just gone down to me." Sans began to crumble into dust, a smile painting his face. "but i guess it takes a human to beat a human, or six of them, to be precise." With that, Sans let go, allowing himself to fade into the darkness.

* * *

Frisk stared at the being in front of him. From what Sans had said, it possessed the six human souls, but who held them? It wasn't Flowey, that much was clear, and he'd killed Flowey earlier. It didn't look like Asgore, or anybody else that was still alive that Frisk knew of. What monster stood in front of them?

" _It doesn't matter."_ Chara whispered to him.  _"They'll just have to die too."_ For once she didn't follow up with one of her chilling giggles, or a snarky comment. For the first time since Frisk had met her, Chara was scared. The figure approached them, walking without the sound of footsteps.

"You have really made a mess of this place? Haven't you?" It said mournfully, shaking its head slightly. Frisk tightened his grip on the knife. "But you aren't alone, are you? You are the last of us, but you are also the first. Frisk, Chara, or is there a difference anymore?" Frisk narrowed his eyes.

"No more talking." He said, Chara mirroring his words inside his head. A sound approaching a sigh came from the glowing figure.

"Fine then. Have it your way." Frisk felt a blow to his gut, knocking the wind out of him. The figure followed up with a powerful uppercut to his chin, sending Frisk flying back. How fast was this thing? It had attacked him physically, not with magic like the monsters had. Two could play at that game. Frisk let Chara take control, ceding his body's functions to her completely.

Chara stood and brushed herself off, smiling wickedly, cocking her head at the glowing figure. This time when it charged, she swung her knife at it. The figure stopped just short of Chara and caught her wrist mid-swing. It spoke again.

"Give up. You can't win. You're  _outnumbered_."

"Never stopped me before!" Chara exclaimed with a laugh and a smile. She dropped the knife, letting it fall for a split second before grabbing it with her other hand and slashing at the figure's torso. It stepped back to dodge the blow, but the knife passed through about an inch of its stomach. The wound closed instantly, without a trace that it had even landed. The figure let out a laugh.

"Body made of magic. You'll have a tough time killing me with that thing. Speaking of magic…" The figure stretched out its hands and a swarm of magical bullets filled the air behind it. "How about something more familiar?" The attack surged towards her. At first it took the patterns of monsters Chara knew. Froggit, Pyrope, Whimsalot, and many others. Then the patterns became more unpredictable, they combined, split, twisted, struck and withdrew in an endless typhoon of seemingly unavoidable strikes. Her HP dropped. 34.

23.

12.

5.

1.

The attacks disappeared, leaving Chara facing the figure once more. It was more solemn this time.

"You could have been the best of us." It said, sadness creeping into its voice. "We can see it now, you  _were_  the best of us. You helped them all, SAVED everybody." A steely edge crept into the figure's voice. "Then you became the worst of us. You slaughtered those you called your friends. You slaughtered  _our_ friends." Hate filled Chara's eyes as she stared at the figure, waiting for it to kill her. Before she even saw the figure move, it was there, gripping her by her neck, slamming her into one of the massive stone columns. "They might be monsters, but I can see inside your soul. And in there you are uglier than any of them seem to be on the outside _._ " Chara trembled with hatred, staring into the glowing visage of the six human souls that dared stand up to her. "We are everything you could have been, but are not. We are kindness, patience, bravery, perseverance, integrity—" The figure pressed Chara harder into the column. "—and  _justice._  We will right all the wrongs, fulfill every promise, break all kingdoms and remake them better." The grip on Chara's throat tightened. " _We are Honor._ "

Chara screamed in rage, the cry strangled by the hand at her throat. From the recesses of his own mind, Frisk felt Chara reach for their determination to RESET, but another hand joined her on his soul. Chara howled in rage, and drawing on every ounce of power she possessed, she turned back the timeline.

* * *

Just as the void enveloped Honor, the six souls used their power to slow time—for them at least—to a crawl. Darkness surrounded them, and the souls could see each other's distinct forms. Luminescent versions of what their bodies had been in life, glowing the colors of their souls, respectively. They stood there for a while, staring at each other with mixed awe and trepidation. The green soul spoke first.

"What was that about breaking kingdoms? Why did we say that?" She said. The orange soul smiled and laughed for a moment.

"I thought it sounded dramatic. Didn't you?"

"It wasn't just about the drama." The blue soul said. "When we were together, we knew things. Things we don't know apart. And you felt what it was like being Honor. We couldn't have lied if we wanted to."

"So, it means something more then, but what?" The purple soul asked.

"We don't have time for that." The yellow soul said. "Chara is resetting, and we can't count on Alphys creating Honor every time Chara kills everyone. We need to do something"

"What do we do?" The green soul asked.

"Honor had a plan." The cyan soul piped up. "That's why we stopped time, we had a plan, I just can't remember it." All six of the humans thought in silence for a while.

"We can figure it out." The blue soul finally said. "What are our options?" After a moment, the yellow soul lifted up his hand. From one finger, a trail of light stretched up into the void, farther than any of them could see.

"We managed to grab a thread of their Determination. We can send something back with them." The others crowded around the yellow soul to inspect the thread.

"It isn't enough." The purple soul said, adjusting his glowing glasses out of habit. "We don't have a strong enough grip to send even one soul back, much less Honor."

"But—" The cyan soul began, but cut herself off.

"But what?" The orange soul asked her. The cyan soul gathered her confidence and spoke more firmly,

"But Honor has almost complete control of our souls. We could divide them. Send back a fragment."

"What could a fragment of a soul do?" The blue soul asked. "It probably wouldn't even be strong enough to survive outside of a body, which it wouldn't have, because in case you all forgot, we're dead."

"The reset restores the body of any soul it drags back." The purple soul said. "If we sent back a fragment, it would get a body."

"But it would be weak, and alone." The green soul said.

"Chara, or Frisk, whatever we should call that thing, is weak and alone at first too." The orange soul said. "I remember knowing that from being Honor at least.

"Speaking of alone." The yellow soul began, perking up and grabbing the brim of his hat. "We aren't anymore." The other souls looked around themselves in the void, but they felt it before they saw it. A presence, broken in many ways, but maintaining a semblance of what it had been whole. Silver mist began to take shape in the darkness, threading around the souls and gathering into a tall figure near the little cluster they had formed. The mist coalesced into a tall form with an inky black body and a smooth, white, skull-like head, marred by deep cracks. The orange soul stepped out in front of the others.

"Who are you?" The creature cocked its head, then smiled at them.

"That is not important." The creature said in a deep, resonant voice. "I have been alone here for so long, it is nice to finally have visitors." The humans looked at each other nervously.

"We won't be here very long." The green soul said. "The timeline is being res— well, let's just say we won't around for much longer."

"Oh, I know about the resets." The creature chuckled. "I also know all about your current predicament." The humans were silent. "Fortunately, for the moment our goals are aligned. I have a proposition that could benefit all of us."

"What do you mean, a proposition?" The blue soul challenged.

"You are planning on dividing your souls, sending back a soul fragment in the reset, with a little piece of all of you. I wish to add a piece of my soul to the mix." The creature said. "You are right when you say that whatever you send back will be weak, and alone. I could help it. Guide it."

"How do we know you're on our side?" The yellow soul asked.

"You don't." The creature said. "But you frankly don't have much of a choice. You are already spending a large portion of your power just to keep your souls together. Without a monster soul to fuse to, human souls don't particularly like being stuck together. The being you send back would shatter into six useless pieces before it had the chance to take a single breath. Unless, you had my help."

"He's right." The purple soul said. "That is, if you are a monster?" The creature's smile faded slightly.

"I was." He said after several seconds.

"Can you divide your soul? We don't have control of any souls but our own." The purple soul asked. That got a mirthless laugh from the former monster.

"Young one, my soul has already been divided for  _eons._ "

"No more time for talking. We need to act now." The yellow soul said, eyes trained on the thread of Determination. "It's happening." The souls gathered together, each placing a hand over the yellow soul's hand. When they had all joined, they began to glow with Honor's light once more. The monster stretched out a hand, and without touching them, a jagged shard of white light, flickering pitifully, floated out from his palm. It drifted into the thread of Determination, where it sat suspended in the void, profoundly alone. The glow around the humans deepened, and one by one, small portions of their souls rose out of their chests. Six tiny fragments joined the shard of the monster's shattered soul in Determination thread. They snapped together with a flash of light, forming a new whole out of the mismatched parts. The tiny soul shot up the length of the Determination, disappearing into the void, to be born in another timeline.

* * *

Now, this is the beginning of our story. Our hero is not the powerful, wise, nigh-undefeatable Honor that struck fear into even Chara's cold heart. Our hero is smaller, weaker. Think for a moment. Is it really bravery if you know for a fact that you cannot be beaten? Is it true kindness if lifting your neighbors burden does not add to your own? Is it perseverance if you never fail? Is it patience if you never have to wait? Is it integrity if your morals are never challenged? Is it justice if the guilty can just go back to a time when they were innocent?

Trials make the hero strong, and that strength is what the hero needs to make all of this end. Yes, Honor, the realHonor, is weaker than his predecessor, but his struggles make his  _honor_  stronger. Now, back to our story…

* * *

A stick poked the boy in the side, jabbing into his ribs hard enough to hurt. It certainly woke him up. The boy scrambled onto his feet, eyes darting about wildly. In front of him was a small child in a striped shirt, peering at him with an odd look in their eye.

"Who are you?" The child asked. The boy thought for a moment. His nerves had quelled some. The child was several inches shorter than him, and didn't look very dangerous.

"I— I don't know…" The boy said, after thinking for a while. "Who am I?" The child snorted derisively.

"Whoever you are, you aren't supposed to be here." The child said, still holding his stick.

"Then how did I get here?" The larger boy asked.

"I don't know." The child said. "You aren't normally here."

"What do you mean normally?" He asked. As soon as he finished the question, a string of memories hit him like a truck. Flashing images of trekking through dark caves, brief moments of frenzied fights, the stinging, cold pains of death. And after that, long memories of darkness, and loneliness. Then, light came to him. Memories of elation, victory, his name! And his purpose.

"Your name is Frisk." The boy said, deep in thought. Frisk's eyes narrowed. He took a threatening step towards the boy, brandishing his stick.

"Who are you?"

"I think… I think my name is Honor." Honor said, clinging to the faint scraps of memories in his mind. Frisk jumped back in shock and fear, holding the stick defensively, before slowly lowering it.

"You look weak." Frisk said, an evil glint catching his eye. "But before I kill you, I want you to tell me how you got here." At that moment, a golden flower popped up out of the ground a few feet away.

"Huh. There's two of you now I guess. Howdy! My name is Flowey! Fowey the—" Flowey cut off its greeting with a yelp as Frisk lunged towards it. The flower tried to pull back into the ground but Frisk caught it by the stem before it could bury itself.

"Oh no you don't!" Frisk yelled, straining and pulling the flower up as far as he could, baring some of the roots, stretching deeper and wider than Honor thought was normal for flowers. Holding the flower's stem just beneath its head, Frisk shook it at Honor. "How did he get here! I reset! He should be gone! What did you do!" The flower scowled, yanking itself out of Frisk's grip and pulling into the ground. It popped up again a few yards away, a terrifying look on its face.

"Never do that again." Flowey said, emphasizing every word. "And how should I know how they got here. I don't even know who they are!" Frisk snorted and turned back to Honor, gripping the stick tighter.

"I guess I'll have to beat it out of you then." He said. Honor took a few steps backward. He didn't like the look on Frisk's face. At that moment, a series of footsteps echoed through the stone chamber, and a tall woman hurried in, covered with fur and with two horns sprouting from her head. A name, Toriel, came into Honor's mind.

"I heard voices, what is going on…" She began, but stopped. Her eyes widened upon seeing them there. "Oh my… two of them…" She cleared her throat, then said, "Greetings young ones! I am Toriel, keeper of the Ruins. You are the first ones to fall down here in a long time." She looked at them nervously. "And this is the first time two humans have fallen at once. This is quite the occasion. Come with me little ones, there is no need to fear." She beckoned them towards her, and she led them out of the cavern. Frisk put on an innocent smile, and began chatting amiably with Toriel. Honor followed them, lagging behind some as Toriel led them through the first few traps of the ruins.

"And what about you little one?" Toriel asked, catching Honor off guard.

"What?" Honor replied.

"Do you prefer cinnamon or butterscotch?" Toriel repeated the question Honor had missed while lost in thought.

"I don't know." Honor replied. "I don't think I've ever had either. Toriel stopped and stared at Honor for a second, shocked.

"You have never tried cinnamon or butterscotch?" He hadn't. In fact, to his knowledge, Honor had never tried any kind of food at all. Frisk shot Honor a dirty look from behind Toriel.

"No, I haven't." He replied simply. Frisk rolled his eyes. Toriel seemed apalled.

"Then whoever has been in charge of feeding you has made a severe misstep. We will have to correct that." She said. Toriel solved puzzles as they came to them, promising she would tell Fisk and Honor about them later. Eventually, they came to an empty room with chutes on the walls. Spikes jutting from the floor blocked their path. Toriel turned to them.

"Oh my, I have forgotten to ask. What are your names?"

"My name? Oh, I think you can call me Frisk." Frisk said, smiling sweetly. Toriel turned toward Honor.

"And you my child?"

"My name is Honor." He said. That seemed to be the only question he could answer with confidence.

"Honor. That is an interesting name." Toriel said. "But a good one. Now, Frisk, could you climb down that chute in the wall? Be careful around the base of it. The floor is prone to break. I need you to press a lever at the bottom…" Toriel guided Frisk through the process of climbing down the chute safely. Meanwhile, Honor wandered off to the far corner of the room, investigating the other chutes. A cracking sound came from the floor beneath him. "Honor? Honor get off of there!" Toriel cried, just as the stone crumbled from beneath his feet.

Luckily, Honor hadn't fallen too far, and a large pile of leaves broke his impact. As he got his bearings, he could hear Toriel above, asking if he was alright. He gave the affirmative, and she instructed him to climb up the chute. As he moved to do so, a splash of color caught Honor's eye. It was a torn red ribbon, lying there in the dirt. He picked it up and eyed it curiously before tucking it into one of his pockets. Pockets. He had pockets. For the first time, Honor eyed his clothes. They were simple shirt and trousers, almost completely gray and bland. Honor sighed. He really knew far too little about himself if he didn't even know where his clothes came from. He scrambled back up the chute to Toriel and Frisk. After checking to make sure he was okay, Toriel told both him and Frisk to stay close to avoid any more accidents.

As Toriel led them on, Frisk leaned over and whispered into Honor's ear.

"I think I'll leave them alive this time, that would be fun. To see the look on your face when they hug me and call me their best friend." Frisk shot Honor another sickly-sweet grin. "The only one I'll kill this time will be you." With a laugh, as if pretending Honor had just said something funny, Frisk skipped back up beside Toriel to talk to her again.  _I don't know how any of this works, and the only person who knows anything about what I am hates me._ Honor thought, his spirits falling.  _How am I going to do this? How can I bring them to justice if nobody thinks they've done anything wrong?_

" _You aren't alone."_ A deep voice said in Honor's mind.  _"Speaking to you like this takes much effort, and my memories are not perfect either, but know this. You are not alone."_  Had that voice been inside his head? Neither Toriel nor Frisk looked like they'd heard it. He tried thinking a question he'd heard too many times that day.  _Who are you?_

" _You can call me Doctor. Doctor Gaster."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Missive From the Architect of the Prose (Because Author's Note is too mainstream): Yeah, a little dense, I get it. The story is now getting into the real meat, as the narrator said. Don't worry, it won't follow the linear path of Undertale, it just has the same starting point. I'd like to know your thoughts about the story, I cannot stress how helpful reviews are. My breakdown of my interpretation of magic in Undersworn will be going up on the Undersworn tumblr soon, and apparently I can put a link in my profile, though I can't put it here. Check that out if you're interested, and copy/paste the link into you're search bar if it doesn't work (not-so-subtle begging to check out the story on tumblr).
> 
> For a quick peak of some of my magic explanation, I'll explain a line from this chapter. Honor says that Chara's knife can't hurt them because Honor at that time was made of magic. However, that knife was plenty effective against monsters, and monsters are mostly made of magic as well. This can be explained easily enough under my interpretation. There are three classes of magic. Class I magic is the kind that monsters use for most of their magic attacks against you. They do the most damage to human souls, but do not effect human physical bodies. Class II magic is similar to Class I, except it effects the physical world, at the expense of damage against souls. This is the kind of magic that Asgore/Toriel use to heat food. Most monsters are made of a specialized form of this class of magic. Class III magic is widely known as human magic, or color magic. Monsters can learn this kind of magic, but it is much more difficult. Humans themselves can barely use most magic in most cases. Honor's body was a manifestation of Class III magic. Class III magic is less susceptible to physical attacks as class II, thus Chara's knife could not hurt Honor's magic form unless she struck the device in Honor's chest. FYI, ghosts are immune to physical attacks for much the same reason, except they are composed of class I magic, which is most immune to physical attacks due to its ethereality.
> 
> If you got through that, what's wrong with you? How much time do you have on your hands? This is just a sub-par piece of fan-fiction, why are you reading up on the magic system? (please keep reading my magic lectures it makes me feel warm and fuzzy on the inside).


	4. Ice and Snow

Toriel and Frisk rounded a large black tree, with Honor trailing behind them. A small quaint house stood behind it, with red leaves piled up away from the door. Toriel led them through the door. The inside was cozy, warmly lit with a comforting atmosphere.

"I do not quite have a room made up for two people yet. Wait over here for a moment, and I will try to find a way to get you settled." She led them to her living room, with a kitchen table, a bookshelf, a crackling fire, and a comfortable looking chair. As soon as Toriel was out of earshot, Frisk leaned against the wall and smirked at Honor.

"So, what's up with you? What happened to the big tall glowing hero that just had to save the day?" Frisk asked.

"I don't remember much." Honor replied warily, stealing a glance the way Toriel had gone. "I do know what you did, and that I have to stop you from doing it again." Frisk laughed.

"Oh, don't worry. I won't be doing that again. At least, not this time." He shot Honor a wink. "You know? Maybe I won't kill you yet. You might make this timeline a bit more interesting. I was getting kind of bored of doing the same things over and over again." Honor glared at him.

"Don't get cocky." He said, taking a half step towards Frisk. Frisk laughed again.

"Oh no, I'm not being cocky." Frisk said with a drawl. He smiled wider. "I'm just being realistic." Honor shuddered. Toriel's footsteps approached, and Frisk put a finger to his lips. "Play nice now. We wouldn't want me to get a little clumsy and kill somebody, now would we?" Honor glared at Frisk again as Toriel strode into the room.

"I'll need to find a more permanent solution later, but you two must be exhausted. Come now, you need rest. One of you can sleep in my bed for now." Said Toriel. She led them first to a small bedroom, obviously meant for a small child. Frisk took that bedroom, throwing Honor one last frightening smile when Toriel's back was turned. Toriel brought Honor to her own bedroom, where she put him down in her bed. Honor sank into the mattress. The thought came to him that it was quite literally the softest thing he had ever laid on. After all, the only competition was the bed of flowers he had woken up on. Honor decided he liked beds, the thought pushing out unsettling musings about Frisk, Chara, and all the problems he was meant to solve.

* * *

It was dark. There was something vaguely familiar about the darkness, but Honor couldn't quite place it. He looked at his own body, which he could see clearly despite the apparent lack of light. Eventually, Honor noticed that there was somebody else beside him. The realization came slow, but as soon as the thought entered his mind, he snapped his attention on the being. It was a tall shadowy form. He could only see it because scattered across its body were scraps of white and gray, outlining its image, but not entirely capturing it. The being looked fragmented, not whole.  
"Hello, my friend." The being said. It was the same voice that had spoken to him in the Ruins. Honor cocked his head.

"You're the Doctor? Dr. Gaster?" Pieces of his body that were around the corners of his mouth twitched upward, as if he was smiling despite his broken state.

"Yes. I am. Speaking to you this way is much easier than doing so when you are awake. With fewer inputs to your brain, I can commandeer a few neurons temporarily to let us communicate here." Said Dr. Gaster. Honor raised a hand to his temple.

"I'm not sure I like you 'commandeering' my brain." He replied. Gaster raised his hands defensively.

"I would never do anything to harm you by it. Believe it or not, I have nearly as much stake in your well-being as you do yourself. You are by far the most stable connection I have had to the physical world in quite a long time." Honor frowned. He didn't quite understand Dr. Gaster's explanation, but he guessed he didn't have much of a choice either way.  
"So who are you? And why are you in my head?" Honor asked. Gaster smiled again.

"As I said, I am Dr. Gaster, former Royal Scientist to King Asgore, and former Se—well, that doesn't matter right now. An unfortunate accident befell me during my work, and there were quite serious consequences for my soul. I am afraid that nobody in the Underground will remember who I am." He said regretfully. "As for why I am 'in your head' so to speak, my soul, or this fragment of it at least, was fused to yours at your creation. The result was a bond that will allow me to interact with the physical world again, albeit indirectly through you. Think of me as a guide of sorts. I should be able to help you with many things." Honor thought about it.

"Earlier you said your memories weren't perfect either."

"Ah, yes. Unfortunately, I am but a fragment of my original soul. As such my memories are… incomplete. Do not worry, they should be sufficient to lead you on your path."

"So, you want to stop Frisk and Chara too?" Honor asked.

"Let us just say that I have a vested interest in keeping as many of the Underground's inhabitants alive as possible." Said Gaster.

"Fair enough." Honor replied.

"You should wake soon." Gaster said. "Communication in this way, while easier, is inefficient. Much more time has passed in the real world than would be desirable. I will have to work on that. Now little Honor, you really should  _wake up._ " Honor opened his eyes with a start. He was still laying on Toriel's bed, and the room was dim. A slice of pie sat on the floor. Honor tested it, and it was still warm. He picked it up and carried it with him as he left the room. He tried a bite.

Honor decided that he absolutely did like butterscotch and cinnamon.

He walked to the living room, but nobody was there. A book was sitting by the large chair, where one hadn't been before, but otherwise nothing was different. The kitchen had a large pie with two missing slices, but was also empty of Toriel or Frisk. As he walked out of the living room, Honor heard faint sobbing, that seemed to be coming from down the stairs near the house's entrance. Honor took the stairs two at a time, running towards the sound. He entered a wide, ominous-looking hallway. He turned a corner and met Toriel, who jumped in surprise at seeing him.

"Oh! What are you doing down here?" She asked. Her face fell. "Do you wish to leave as well? Your friend, Frisk, left. I couldn't stop him." She looked at Honor, pleading. "Will you stay with me? I know this place is small, but it can be quite lovely." Honor dipped his head. If Frisk had left, he had to follow. It was dangerous to leave him to wander amok in the Underground. If he got to the end and Reset again, Honor didn't know if he would reset with him. He hoped he never had to find out.

"I'm sorry, but if Frisk went, I have to go to." He said. Toriel knelt down and put a hand on his shoulder worriedly.

"Are you sure my child? Frisk's soul, I must admit, is quite strong. Maybe even strong enough to make it past Asgore. However, your soul, if you'll pardon me, is smaller. Dare I say weaker." Said Toriel. Honor clenched his fists at his sides. He couldn't afford to be weaker that Frisk. He was meant to stop him and Chara, how could he do that if he was the weaker of the two?

"I am sure." He said simply. Toriel sighed.

"I thought it might be so. It is just that your soul doesn't quite seem right. When I first saw you, if I hadn't known better, I would never have taken you for a human. Wait!" Toriel's ears perked up. "That's it! Human souls are much more powerful than monster souls. Most monsters could easily pick a human out of a crowd by just their soul. You however, could pass for a monster at first. You would be very powerful for a monster, but it might be enough for them not to kill you on sight." Toriel seemed excited by her idea. "Child, if you will wait for a moment before you leave, I think I can help you be able to travel through the Underground without too much trouble. Come now." Honor apprehensively followed Toriel back up the steps into her house. She went into her room and rummaged through a few drawers and boxes before coming out carrying a cloak. It was made of dark cloth, with a deep cowl. "Most monsters in the Underground have never seen a human before." She explained. "Without a soul powerful enough to attract them, wearing this it should be nearly impossible for any monster to recognize you as a human!" She smiled at him. It was a bittersweet smile, but genuine. Honor took the gift and thanked her. Toriel met his eyes. "Out there, you won't have any real allies. The king, Asgore, will want to kill you and take your soul." Her tone hardened. "You cannot let that happen. Keep yourself safe, and be good." She smiled at him and added, "Try to leave the world better than you found it, can you do that for me my child?" Honor nodded and chocked out the words,

"I will, I promise."

"Good, good." Toriel murmured. She walked him back to the exit of the Ruins. He opened the door slowly, and walked through, stepping out into several inches of snow. He took a few more steps forward, marveling at the beautiful forest before him. The door shut behind him.

It took some time of Honor standing there, outside the door to the Ruins, for his task to sink in. He had to find Frisk and stop him before he could escape the Underground. If he did he would just be able to reset, and all of this would be for naught. Once he realized that, the cold seemed all the more biting, causing him to shiver. He pulled the cloak Toriel had given him tighter around himself, and began to trudge along through the forest path. Eventually he came upon a small rickety wooden bridge. Honor tested it with his foot. The chasm it spanned was a little too dark and ominous for his liking. The contraption was made all the stranger by the wooden structure built around it. If he had to guess, Honor would say that it was supposed to be a gate, but he couldn't see it serving any functional purpose in its current condition. He passed through it. Luckily, the bridge was sturdier than it looked, and held Honor's weight easily. As he kept walking, Honor passed a small open-air building with a peculiarly shaped lamp in front of it. He checked the building, it was a sentry station. It matched the designs of sentry stations in the other rural portions of the Underground… How did he know that?

" _Your memories come from the souls that created you."_ Gaster said, speaking weakly in his mind.  _"You will remember scraps, fragments of experiences or knowledge that the particular soul that gave them to you thought would be helpful in your task, or simply things that stood out in their own journeys through this place."_

"So why can't I remember anything when I try to? Why do they come randomly?" Honor said to the empty Snowdin air.  _Snowdin_ , he knew the name of this area as well. Dr. Gaster didn't respond. Honor guessed that he had spent too much energy with the first statement, and the dream back in the Ruins, to continue their conversation. Oddly, the sentry station had an unsettling amount of ketchup inside. Honor left it behind him, not particularly wanting to meet the sentry that the station housed.  _Must not be that good of a sentry._  Honor thought.  _Staying at your post is generally an important part of the job._ Honor wondered if the sentry had been there to spot Frisk. He quickened his pace to catch up. Honor passed a crossroads, and could hear a river gushing in the direction of one of the paths. He thought about getting wet in this chill and shivered. His cloak would work well for hiding his identity, but didn't quite protect against the cold as much as he would like. He noticed another sentry station in front him. He caught a flicker of motion from inside. Slowly, Honor crept into the woods, trudging through deeper snow where it drifted on the edges of the path. He worked his way deep enough into the woods that he was confident he wouldn't be spotted, and continued on his way, occasionally checking to make sure he was travelling parallel to the path. He walked that way for a while, passing another lookout station, and a clearing with a lone snowman in the center. He avoided that, electing to stay in the woods.

Honor's feet were numb with cold from walking through the snow, when to his surprise, the forest he was traversing dropped down a steep cliff. A quick glance revealed that the cliff stretched as far as he could see through the heavy snowfall. Snowdin, it seemed, was on an icy plateau. Honor walked along the cliff, being sure to stay away from the edge. Eventually, the cliff steepened and curved in towards the forest, creating a bottleneck with a similar cliff of the other side. The forest stopped just before the bottleneck, revealing a small clearing. In that clearing stood two skeletons, and Frisk. From his spot still hidden in the trees, Honor lowered himself to the ground, half burying himself in snow. Some of it melted from his body heat, seeping into his clothes and chilling him to the bone. He carefully watched the interaction in front of him.

The skeletons bantered back and forth with each other for some time, then gave Frisk some sort of metallic ball. Frisk without hesitation retraced the footsteps the taller skeleton had left in the snow while giving him the object. Honor gathered that it must be some sort of mental test. After Frisk got to the other side of the clearing, the taller skeleton left. The short skeleton and Frisk talked for a while, then Frisk left too. The shorter skeleton stood there in the clearing for some time after. Eventually, it said,

"don't think i don't see ya there bud." Honor ducked his head farther into the snow. The skeleton hadn't been facing him, so the skeleton couldn't have been talking to him, it wouldn't have seen him. Honor listened for footsteps walking off. After a few minutes, he still hadn't heard any. He risked looking up, and there was no trace of the skeleton. It must've moved quieter than Honor had expected.

When he tried to get up, Honor realized just how cold he was. He was no longer shivering, and his fingers were ghostly pale. Despite his fractured memory, Honor knew those weren't good signs. He followed in the direction Frisk and the skeletons had gone. Maybe he had waited too long in the snow. Honor kept walking, following a slightly meandering path, marked by the absence of the deep snow Honor had walked in earlier. He was sure he would appreciate it had his feet had any feeling. Eventually, he crossed a long wooden bridge, and passed a sign welcoming him to the town. Without thinking, he pulled the cowl of his cloak up farther, casting his face into shadow. He passed a few buildings, convincing himself he needed to keep moving.

_I need to catch up to Frisk_ He thought. His legs gave out in front of a warm looking building with delicious smells wafting out. He lay there on the ground, mind becoming as numb as his fingers. He was tired. Sleep seemed nice… Hadn't he just slept—back in the ruins? But he was so tired…

As he drifted off, he faintly heard a shout.

"Oi Grillby! C'mout here! This kid looks frozen solid!" Couldn't they keep it down? Didn't they know some people were just trying to sleep…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Typist's Missive (because Author's Note is too mainstream): You know the drill. Authors with reviews on their stories are proven to work 36% faster, based on triple blind clinical trials. Also, I'm trying to get some art made up for the cover of the story that's more than an obscure background. Stay tuned!


	5. Grillby's

Honor woke up to the sound of muffled raucous laughter. His eyes flickered open and he let out a soft groan.  _Where am I?_ He thought. The last thing he remembered was walking through the bitter cold, he hadn't been thinking right, had those been real houses, or had he been hallucinating?  _I need to be more careful._  Honor thought to himself.

" _Yes, you do."_ Dr. Gaster replied in his head. Of course. The creepy brain controller. At least there hadn't been a dream this time, so it seemed that Gaster didn't have anything important to tell him for now. Honor took the time to get the gist of his surroundings. The building he was in was warm, and smelled like greasy food. Honor sat up. He was on a low couch, the fabric marred by more than a few odd scorch marks. The smell could be explained by the large stove and fryer setup that occupied one wall, and what looked like a food preparation table. He must be in some sort of kitchen. The occasional peals of laughter Honor could hear through the wall suggested he was in a public place, probably a restaurant.

No sooner had that thought crossed his mind when a door opened and a figure strode through. Honor jumped to his feet. The person was dressed normally enough, albeit a bit formal. No, what surprised Honor was the fact that the person who had just entered the room seemed to be entirely composed of flame.

"You're awake. Good." The fire-man said. He strode over to the stove and began preparing food.

"Where am I?" Honor asked.  
"Grillby's" The fire-man answered. Honor cocked his head.

"And who are you?"

"Grillby." Honor nodded. It made sense.

"Fair enough." He said. "Why am I here?" Grillby chuckled.

"We found you outside, near frozen to death. It usually isn't that cold out here in Snowdin, but your clothes were wet. What were you doing, lying down in the snow?" Grillby asked. Honor's cheeks went red. He  _had_  done that. "Well anyway, we brought you in here and got you dried up and warm."

"Thanks." Honor said nervously, fingering the hem of the cloak Toriel had given him, which he was still wearing. It was indeed dry.

"And don't worry. None of them could tell that you're a human." Grillby said, continuing to work on the food. Honor started, eyes wide.

"Wh-what do you mean?" He stuttered.

"I mean that most monsters have never seen a human before. At least until today." Grillby said.

"And have you? Before today that is?" Honor asked. Grillby stopped his cooking for a second, staring at the stovetop before resuming his work.

"Yes."

"When?"

"A long time ago. Our parting terms were… unpleasant." Grillby said. Changing the topic, he continued, "Anyways, you should be safe, everybody that's supposed to stop humans is looking for that other one. Striped shirt. You know him?"

"Yeah, I know him." Honor replied.  _Frisk. It has to be._ "Is he causing trouble?" He asked.

"No more trouble than he has to, being a human and all." Grillby said. "In fact, a couple of the locals have taken quite a liking to him."  _So, he probably hasn't killed anybody yet. That's good._ Honor thought.  _No time to waste._

"Well, thank you for everything, but I really should be going." Honor said, taking a step towards the door. His legs wobbled and he nearly fell.

"Not yet." Grillby said. He put the finishing touches on a burger with a flourish and carried it towards Honor. "At least eat this first." Honor eyed it warily. He guessed it couldn't hurt to eat something. He took a tentative bite. The food was delicious, but that wasn't the half of it. As he ate, strength flooded his body, steadying his legs and sharpening his vision. He looked down at the burger in wonder. That couldn't be normal food.

"What did you even put in this?" He asked with amazement. Grillby chuckled.

"Humans may have the edge on us monsters when it comes to stronger souls, but we know how to give our food a nice magical kick. Plus, I've been practicing for a couple hundred years." Honor paused for a moment at the mention of magic, then took another bite. "Why are you in such a hurry to get out of here anyway?" Grillby asked.

"There's someone out there, the other human you mentioned. They've done some bad things. Very bad things. I'm supposed to stop them." Honor said. Grillby turned back to his cooking.

"From what I've heard, they're the epitome of innocence and friendliness. What could they have done that's that bad?" Honor sighed. Frisk's pacifistic façade was working, so it seemed.

"They're… a very good actor."

"Hmm." Grillby kept working, making what appeared to be two orders of fries. "Well, if they're as bad as you say, that's quite a lot of responsibility for someone as young as yourself."

"You have no idea." Honor muttered. He had only been alive for about a day and a half by his reckoning. And there was no way Grillby could know what Frisk was capable of. In fact, Honor didn't know how  _he_ knew what Frisk was capable of. Somehow, he was sure with absolute certainty that Frisk, if left alone, would kill everybody in this world, bring them back, and do it all again for eternity unless he stopped him. He knew all that, but he could barely remember the names of five monsters down here.  _Down here,_ he knew he was underground. He was in  _the_ Underground.

"How do you plan on doing it?" Grillby asked, interrupting Honor's reverie.

"Doing what?"

"Stopping the other human. You said you were going to stop them." Grillby said.

"Oh. Yeah. To be honest I hadn't thought quite that far ahead." Honor said sheepishly. Grillby chuckled again. It sounded vaguely like a crackling campfire.

"If you don't have a plan, you might have to come up with one sooner rather than later." Grillby said.

"Why do you say that?" Honor asked before finishing off his burger.

"Call it intuition. Now, that was on the house, but if you want to work some of it off, could you take these fries out to the customers?" Grillby slid two plates of fries across the counter towards Honor. He picked them up.

"Of course. Who do I take them to?"

"Look for a skeleton and the person with them. They're sitting at the bar." Grillby said. Honor left through the door Grillby had come in through, entering the main room of the restaurant carrying the fries. The first things he noticed were the dogs. Dogs playing cards. Honor knew he should have been baffled, but somehow, he wasn't, and that was what really baffled him. With a shake of his head, Honor walked behind the bar and looked for a skeleton. He saw one, and recognized it. It was the same skeleton from before, the short one that somehow had known he was watching it from the forest. And beside the skeleton was—

"Frisk." Honor said, stopping in his tracks. Frisk and the skeleton stopped their conversation and turned to stare at him.

"looks like the grub's ready." The skeleton said, before adding, "i didn't know grillbz got a new waiter, do you two know each other?" Honor finished taking them their food and set it on the surface of the bar. Frisk shot Honor an angry glare, then quickly put his smile back on.

"We do!" Frisk said. "I didn't know Honor was here though. It's  _awfully dangerous_ to keep following where I'm going." Honor took the statement for the thinly veiled threat that it was. He set his eyes in what he hoped was a firm gaze. Honor made no effort to mince words.

"I'm not going to let you keep pretending Frisk." Frisk's smile faltered again. Sans seemed to notice this time, and he cocked his head at the two of them.

"What are you talking about H?" Frisk asked, putting on his too sweet smile.

"Nobody else can remember what you did, but I do, somehow. I won't let you go on like this." Honor said, trying to sound more confident than he felt.

"I honestly don't know what you're talking about." Frisk said. The skeleton leaned back against the counter.

"this is getting interesting." He said, grabbing a nearby bottle of ketchup. "the name is sans, by the way."

" _There is something familiar about him…"_ Gaster said in Honor's mind. Honor ignored it for now.

"I won't let you get to the end Frisk. Not again. This will be your last time doing this." Sans sputtered on the swig of ketchup he was drinking, bursting into a coughing fit. Frisk narrowed his eyes, meeting Honor's stare with his own steely gaze.

"Again. I have no idea what you're talking about." The smile was gone now.  _I can't stop him myself,_ Honor thought,  _I'm too weak, I know that much. But maybe…_

"Hey you!" Honor said, addressing the dogs playing cards at one of the tables. They perked up and looked at him. Honor saw the weapons and armor they were carrying. "You're part of the royal guard, right?" He asked. One of the dogs took a smoldering dog biscuit out of its mouth.

"Yeah, that's right." It said in a gruff voice. "What's it to you?" Honor's mind raced. If he let the timeline run its usual course, Frisk would just come back and kill everybody. He had to create as much of an impact as possible, and he had a stupid idea about how to do so.

"Call your boss." Honor said. He was going to get himself killed, he knew it. "Tell them there's a human in Snowdin." The guard dog snorted derisively.

"She already knows that. Undyne's waiting for it down in Waterfall."

"Tell her she's going to have to come here to get it." Honor said. "The human is here, and it isn't going anywhere."

"What are you doing?" Frisk hissed at Honor. Sans eyed them both warily.

"Fine, I'll call her." The dog said, looking at Honor with a measure of trepidation.

" _You were right. You are going to get yourself killed."_ Gaster said. The guardsman fiddled with his phone for a second then began to talk into it with a low voice. Frisk glared at Honor, happy pretense forgotten. Sans watched both of them appraisingly, still nursing his bottle of ketchup.

"This isn't how it's supposed to happen!" Frisk said, eyes darting back and forth frantically.

"I thought you were doing this because you were bored." Honor said, his confidence growing, "Won't this make it a bit more interesting?" Honor flashed a smile, hoping his own fear wasn't showing through. Sans chuckled. The guardsman hung up and stuck his phone back in his pocket.

"She's coming." He said. Sans slid off his stool.

"i would stick around to hear you guys  _rib_ each other a bit more,but i gotta go. someone tell grillby to put this on my tab." Sans said motioning to the food. He ruffled Frisk's hair then turned to leave, shooting Honor a wink. "my bro's gonna be excited when he learns there are two humans he can be friends with." Sans left, shutting the door behind him. Honor and Frisk sat quietly for a few seconds. So this Sans could tell Honor was a human as well.

"You. Idiot." Frisk growled. Honor took a half step back despite himself. "I can't fight Undyne here, there's nowhere to run to! Hotland is too far, and I don't have the equipment to beat her in combat!" Frisk's eyes turned cold, and he spoke quietly. "I might need to let the demon come out. You know what would happen then, don't you,  _Honor?_ " Frisk said the name as if he were uttering a foul word, voice filled with disgust. Just then, the door to Grillby's burst open with a crash, and a tall figure wearing an imposing suit of armor stepped through.

"She's here already?" Honor asked, surprised.

"You don't know how fast she can run." Frisk murmured, turning his gaze towards the steel-clad soldier.

"Human." Undyne said, her voice reverberating through her helmet and coming out metallic. "I hope you are ready to die." She turned to the royal guardsmen sitting around at the table playing cards. "Shape up!" She barked the order at them. They scrambled to their feet, and one of them literally barked back. Undyne turned her gaze once more to Honor and Frisk. "So, there are two of you, huh?" She said. For all that Toriel had said about monsters not recognizing him as human, all of the monsters that actually mattered seemed to know what he was.

" _Do as I say."_  Gaster said in Honor's mind. Undyne summoned a wicked looking magic spear out of the air, holding it ready before her.

" _Tell her you claim the right of challenge."_ Gaster said. Undyne advanced slowly towards them.  _"She will have to take you to King Asgore before she kills you! Do it!"_

"I claim the right of challenge." Honor declared. Undyne stopped in her tracks.

"What?" She asked.

"I claim the right of challenge." Honor said, this time with a twinge of nervousness shaking his voice.

"What are you doing?" Frisk asked. Honor ignored him.

"You— How do you know about— Fine! I'll accept your right of challenge. We will fight in the royal amphitheater, with King Asgore to witness." She said begrudgingly. "As for you…" Undyne glared down at Frisk, raising her spear.

"I'll do the challenge thing too!" Frisk shouted, eyes shifting between Undyne and Honor.

"Gah!" Undyne exclaimed, slamming her spear into the floor. "Fine! I accept your right as well. Then I can tear you both limb from limb in front of hundreds of people! Are you happy!"

"I think so." Honor muttered.  _Was this your plan?_ Honor thought.

" _It will buy you time. Why did you summon Undyne here?"_ Gaster spoke into his mind.

_I needed to change the timeline, and I panicked._ Honor thought.

" _Next time you panic, do not call the greatest immediate threat to your life into your close proximity."_ Gaster said with a hint of exasperation. Honor conceded that point.

"Soldiers!" Undyne shouted. The royal guardsmen stood once more at attention. "Secure the prisoners. We're taking them to New Home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> La nota de escritor (because "Author's Note" is too mainstream): Sorry for the delay in getting you this chapter, I had to crank out 15 pages of analyzing theological influences on Tolkien and C.S. Lewis. But I'm back! You know the deal, you give me reviews, I pledge my undying allegiance to you and will supply you with a plausible alibi in a court of law. Some info you should know for context around future chapters, a lot of people lowball the number of monsters in the Underground. Mettaton reaches about 12,000 viewers in his show during your fight. With the incredibly generous estimate that 1/5 of all monsters in the Underground are watching him on distinct televisions, there should be at the very least 60,000 monsters in the Underground, probably more. Thanks for reading! New chapter soon.


	6. Chapter 6: Captured

Undersworn

Chapter 6:

_Tap tap tap tap tap tap tap._

Honor tried to ignore the piercing feeling of Undyne's gaze, methodically tapping the cool steel bars of his cell with his fingernail. In a cell across the hall, Frisk was twisting a bandana in his hand, wrapping it around what looked like a padded sparring glove. Undyne sat on a rickety stool between the cells, polishing her helmet while staring daggers at the two humans.

_Tap tap tap tap tap tap tap—_

"Stop that!" She shouted. Honor stopped tapping. Undyne had told them Asgore was busy doing who knows what. They had to wait until he was finished before they would be brought before him, and the challenge could start. The challenge was a public contest between him and Undyne. A battle to the death with Asgore and the monster public as witnesses. To Honor, it sounded like a death sentence.  _Do I even know how to fight?_ He thought. Perhaps one of the souls that had created him had known how to fight, but would he inherit their instincts? And they had been children after all, even if he held the combined experience of all six of them, he would still barely hold a candle to someone like Undyne, a trained, professional soldier. That said, Frisk was a child as well, and he had surely beaten Undyne countless times, though Frisk held certain… advantages, that Honor did not.  _Can I beat her? Can I survive?_ Honor thought.

" _If you fight Undyne in a battle to the death, you will die."_ Gaster said matter-of-factly in Honor's mind. The doctor hadn't spoken much since Honor's capture, and when he did, he sounded tired.

Honor sighed, drawing Toriel's cloak up around him for comfort. Honor heard some scuffling outside the door to their holding area. A few barks punctuated the sound. Undyne growled under her breath and set her helmet to the side.

"What is it now?" She said, getting up and striding to the door. She walked through, closing it behind her. The sounds from outside the door intensified.

"When you die, I'm going to SAVE." Frisk said, still fiddling with the glove and bandana.

"What?" Honor said, looking up at Frisk.

"Once I do that, I'll be able to try as many times as I need to in order to beat Undyne." Frisk continued. "It might take a while, but I'll win eventually." Frisk met Honor's eyes. "You won't." Honor shuddered, the words ringing true. "You will die, and I will pretend to be sad about it. I'll go on, and make friends with all of them anyway. You know I can. Then, once everyone is happy, and alive—except for you of course—I'll kill them all." Frisk looked up, smiling. "How does that sound?" Both humans turned to look at the door as the sounds reached a crescendo.

"Hey! Hey you can't do that! This place is off limits!" They heard Undyne yell. Then, the wooden door burst off its hinges with a crash, followed by a rectangular robot balancing on a single wheel. It shot into the room and stopped in the middle of the holding area, spinning around.

"AAAAAND WE'RE LIVE!" It shouted. "This is Mettaton! Reporting to you live from Dreeemurr dungeon! You got this camera guy?" A much smaller, cylindrical robot with a lens on its front and a large MTT logo on the side zipped through the air after Mettaton, suspended by a whirring propeller. It beeped the affirmative and hovered several yards away. "Excellent!" Mettaton said. "As we covered in our earlier report, there have been two  _human_ challengers to the captain of the Royal Guard, Undyne!" Undyne strode through the broken door fuming and clutching a glowing magical spear in her hand.

"Mettaton—" She began.

"And there she is now!" Mettaton exclaimed, rolling towards her and somehow conjuring a microphone from somewhere, "Oh captain my captain! We here at MTT News have so many questions for you leading up to the big event! Would you like to perform an interview?" Undyne clutched her spear harder.

"This area is not open to the public." She said, barely restraining her anger.

"Then I will be sure not to invite any of the public to our interview in person." Mettaton replied. "Now tell me, what have you been doing to prepare for the match?" Mettaton held the microphone close to Undyne's face. She swatted it away.

"I've been training to kill humans from the day I was born!" She said. "And I can use that same training to kick you out of my freaking dungeon!"

"That one's got a fiery spirit!" Mettaton said, backing up a few paces to avoid a swipe from Undyne's spear. "A tough opponent for anyone indeed! Do you have any words of inspiration for the children at home my dear captain?" Undyne glared at Mettaton for another moment before turning on her heel and walking away, visibly angry.

"I'm done with this. Asgore should be ready soon." She said.

"So, there you have it beauties and gentlebeauties! Undyne, captain of the Royal Guard!" Mettaton rolled over to Frisk's cell. "Now let's meet the challengers! Smile for the camera, you're on TV! What's your name darling?"

"Frisk." Frisk said, putting on his sickly-sweet grin.

"Frisk! Wonderful. And how have you been preparing for the big showdown my dear?" Mettaton asked. Frisk shrugged in response. Mettaton tsked.

"And what about you? You issued the challenge first, how long have you been preparing for your moment of fame?" Mettaton asked, turning to Honor. He almost laughed at the ridiculousness of it. Honor thought about it for a second.

"An hour or two?" He answered honestly. Mettaton reeled back, throwing his arms up in a dramatic gesture.

"Oh no! No no no, this won't do at all!" Mettaton said. "Camera? Cut this part." A blinking light on the hovering cylinder turned off. Mettaton lowered his voice to a quieter—but still very loud—volume. "Alright listen. I need you to work with me here. It doesn't sound like either of you are prepared for the fight. It would be a slaughter, where's the drama in that?" Neither human spoke. "No, the event can't happen now. We need it to be a contest! We need force multipliers, promotional videos, training montages!" Mettaton rolled closer to Frisk's cell. "Come with me darling. If you survive my show, you'll be more than ready to fight Undyne. Emphasis on the  _if_." Mettaton stretched out a finger and a blast of energy shot out, shearing through the lock on the cell door. Honor scrambled to his feet, watching as Mettaton tucked Frisk under one arm.

"What about me?" Honor asked.

"The spotlight isn't wide enough for all of us darling. You can stay here and provide an excellent exhibition match!"

"No! Wait!" Honor called as Mettaton began to leave.

"Sorry my dear, time is money, and my time is worth an  _awful_ lot of it."

"Your show, what if you need a season two?" Honor blurted out.

" _What are you doing?"_ Gaster asked in his mind. Mettaton stopped.

"Go on."

"You said you were doing a show, if you let me out, you could use me for a second season if it does well." Honor said, realizing how stupid the idea sounded out loud.

" _There is no way that is going to be effective."_ Gaster said.

"That, is a WONDERFUL idea!" Mettaton shouted, spinning back towards Honor's cell. "Unfortunately, we cannot afford to provide accommodations for you until we see what kind of ratings the program will be getting— I'm kidding of course, I'm the star, so the ratings will obviously be marvelous, but you will have to find your own place to stay for the time being." Mettaton blasted the lock off of Honor's cell door with a flick of his robotic wrist. The robot turned again to leave, still carrying Frisk under one arm. "Oh, and I would get out of here quickly. Undyne was right about Asgore being almost done. I'd give you two minutes. Toodles!" The robot shot out the door, rising into the air followed closely by the floating camera.

Honor jumped to action, shoving open his now unlocked cell door. A scrap of color caught his eye from Frisk's cell. It was the bandana, Frisk must have dropped it when Mettaton picked him up. Hesitating for a second, Honor retrieved the bandana and left through the same door as Mettaton. It opened out into a wider hallway with a staircase on one end. Gaster interjected into Honor's thoughts.

" _I know this place. Use the servants' staircase."_

_Where?_ Honor thought.

" _Third door on the left. Quickly now!"_

Honor sprinted to the indicated door and flung it open, dashing through and up the stairs. How did Gaster know that? Honor slipped out of the door at the top of the staircase, stepping into a large grassy courtyard, with edges lined by thick-trunked oak trees. He crept along the edge of the courtyard, darting between the trees to stay hidden. On one end of the courtyard was a large open gate that lead to what looked like a street with grandiose buildings on either side. He still had his cloak, if he could get out there and lose himself in the city, he might be safe.

Honor's train of thought was interrupted by a sharp series of barks behind him, followed by loud shouts. The guards must have discovered his and Frisk's escape. Apparently Mettaton's two minute estimate was low. He cursed himself. Honor had left the door to the staircase he'd taken open, they would immediately know which way he'd gone. He broke into a sprint. The shouting got louder, and Honor could only assume some of the guards had followed him out of the servants' staircase. He ran through the ajar gate and into the city.

Ignoring the bewildered expressions he received from monsters in the street, Honor pumped his legs, running as fast as he could. He took the first side-alley he could find, then another, and another. He kept running until his legs felt dead and his mind was saddled with exhaustion, and then he kept running. He ducked into dark alleys and through crowded streets, trying to keep his face hidden beneath the cowl of his cloak. The only direction he followed was in making sure he always kept the palace to his back, and eventually, his reference hidden in the maze of streets and buildings, Honor lost even that sense of direction.

Fear and desperation drove him, fear of being captured again, desperation from the hopelessness of his task. Tired, legs failing and vision swimming, Honor collapsed in a dirty alleyway littered with trash and grime. He sat on his hands and knees, struggling to suck in breaths of the tepid city air. Eventually he sat down with his back to the alley wall, letting his eyes fall shut for just a moment…

* * *

"You pushed your body too hard." Honor jumped at the voice. Standing in front of him, suspended in the void, was Dr. Gaster's scattered form. "You allowed your fear to overcome you, and overwhelm your sense of reason, this is the path to defeat, failure, and death. Part of the legacy you are woven from is bravery, and I will see that you fulfill that legacy, for if you don't your cowardice will lead to not just your death, but those of thousands of monsters." Honor stared at Gaster, taken aback. "You now lie unprotected in the slums of the monster capital with only a measly cloak to obscure your identity. Forty-three minutes from the time you collapsed, your body will be rested enough for you to function properly. Please keep your wits about yourself once you wake up." Honor continued to gaze at Gaster confused.

"What? But I escaped—" Honor began.

"You got lucky." Gaster retorted, interrupting Honor. "You cannot rely on luck Honor. The odds of you accomplishing your goal idly are very poor, if you put your trust in fate, fate will stab you in the back and leave your body to rot in the dust of the people who will die because of your actions." Honor paled at Gaster's assessment of the odds. "No, you cannot let chance decide. You need to observe, think, analyze, and when you act, you must move with the precision and efficiency of a surgeon's scalpel. You cannot dash blindly until you collapse, you cannot call upon rogue elements such as Undyne to solve your problems for you." Gaster's voice softened. "You are young, and in your brief life you have known little except for this task. You are not ready to do what must be done, though I am not sure exactly what that entails as of yet."

"What are you saying?" Honor asked. Gaster was making little sense, and seemed to be thinking far ahead of his words even as he spoke. Gaster snapped back to attention.

"You must buy time for yourself, to prepare. Act quickly now, so you have the time to prepare yourself better in the future. Now, I have gotten slightly more efficient, but there is still a large disparity between the speed we can communicate in this way and the passage of time in the waking world, you should be waking up in a few—

* * *

Honor's eyes shot open to reveal a bouncing view of the dirty street. Rough hands held him dangling in the air by his armpits, the pressure causing his shoulders to ache. He tried to shout,

"Hey!" But the sound was stifled by a cloth gag tied around his mouth, and it came out more like "hmph!" He thrashed wildly, trying to break free.

"Kid's awake." A deep rumbling voice growled behind him.

"Hurry up then you oaf!" A thin raspy voice called from farther back. Honor heard rapid series of clicking noises, and a long centipede-like creature scurried along the street, rushing up ahead of him. It stood up, holding the front half of its body in the air with its back half, and looked at Honor. It had a humanoid, feminine face on the front of its long, segmented body. The monster smiled, revealing several rows of needle-like teeth. It spoke again. "We don't want to attract too much attention." The monster holding Honor gave a low grunt in response, but didn't change its pace. Gaster had been right, Honor shouldn't have let himself get carried away like that. Now he was being carried away, literally. He thrashed again, and the monster carrying him tightened its grip, making Honor cry out in pain. The centipede monster laughed. "Don't worry, we're not going very far, we're almost there in fact." Honor glared at the centipede monster, and she giggled again. They walked that way for a few more minutes, the hard, rough hands of the monster carrying Honor digging into his armpits.

Eventually, they came to a simple metal door, like those on any of the other buildings they had passed on the way. The centipede-creature approached the door, and a pair of long, sickly arms that had been tucked against her sides stretched out, one of them knocking on the door three times in quick succession, waiting for a few seconds, then knocking twice more.

"It's us. Let us in." She called. After a moment, the door clicked and swung open, revealing a tall spindly monster with no facial features other than a long, rather pronounced nose. The nose-monster stepped to the side and the centipede crawled in, followed by the monster carrying Honor.

Honor was set down and tied to a wooden chair, tight knots digging into the skin of his wrists and ankles. Once he had been set down, Honor could see that the monster that had carried him was a large burly humanoid made of wood, with bark for skin that creaked whenever it moved. Its face was stoic, held in the same constant frowning expression. From his chair, Honor could get a pretty good sense of the place he was in. The room only had one door that he could see, the one he had entered through. It was littered with several tables and chairs, strewn with papers and odd trinkets. There were four monsters in the room total. The two that had brought him, the tall one with the nose, and an overweight reptilian creature that stared at Honor with appraising eyes.

"Look what we found boss." The centipede monster said. Honor decided to call her Legs, because, well, she had a lot of legs. The reptilian monster cocked its head.

"What is it?" He said. Honor decided to call him Scales, by the same reasoning.

"She thinks it's a human." The tree-man rumbled. Honor mentally named him Woody.

"That's because it  _is_ a human!" Legs protested. The monster with the smooth face, except for his nose, bent down over Honor, as if inspecting him. Honor decided to call him Nose, on account of his rather pronounced version of that particular facial feature.

"Human souls are supposed to brighter than that, yes?" Scales asked.

"It is bright!" Scales said. "And the stories could obviously be exaggerating. Either way, it looks human."

"How do you know what humans look like?" Woody asked Legs.

"Because I went to school! Unlike you uneducated—"

"Enough." Scales boomed. Legs stopped talking. "I can find an expert to determine if it is human. If it is, it is a weak one, if not, it is a strong enough monster that there are a few chasm-crawlers who I know would pay substantial coin for a specimen such as this." Honor's thoughts raced. Who were these people, were they planning on  _selling_ him? He strained against his bonds to no avail. Scales spoke again.

"Now, as for— what is it?" Nose was holding a paper and tapping it to get Scales' attention. "Oh, yes, that." Scales said. "Another den was found burnt out yesterday. No sign of the crew that used it."

"Good, less competition." Drawled Legs.

"No. Not good." Scales said. "We had business dealings with this crew. They had a mole with the Core Workers Union, we used them for the Araxi job, remember?"

"Oh, them. That shouldn't be a problem. None of them knew where our den is." Legs replied.

"And that is why we're still here. They did know our faces though, so we should lie low for a while." Scales said.

"Fine." Legs replied, curling up in one corner.

"What about today?" Woody asked.

"What do you mean?" Scales asked in return.

"We found him—" Woody gestured at Honor, "near the cannery. Somebody could have seen us there." Scales rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"Can't be helped now. The chances that you were followed are very low. We should be fine." Scales said. As if on cue, a knock sounded on the door. Three beats. The room went silent. A moment later, two more knocks sounded.

"Were we expecting somebody?" Woody rumbled in a low voice. All of the monsters shook their heads.

"They got the knock right." Legs whispered.

"You idiot! If somebody knew your face, they could have followed you here and watched you knock!" Scales hissed. Honor stared at the door from the corner of his eye. Who was it? Could it be the Royal Guard, come to take him back? Nose strode over to the door and tentatively touched the doorknob. As soon as he did, he leapt back, grasping his hand as if in pain. A dozen or so points of light formed around his head, arranging themselves into a bullet pattern.

"What's wrong with the door?" Scales asked, a touch of fear creeping into his voice. "Chila, check it out." The Legs slowly crept towards the door. Chila, so that was her name. She stretched out one of her slender hands and touched the doorknob, but instantly recoiled, screeching in pain.

"It's hot!" She yelled. As soon as she did, a jet of crimson flame shot through the edge of the door, where the deadbolt was. When the fire dissipated, the bolt had melted to the floor. All four monsters scrambled to the back of the room, letting out fearful cries. The door was thrown open, revealing a figure of magnificent splendor.

The monster was wreathed in fire, red like the sky at sunset. He wore a royal blue uniform with gold trim that shone, reflecting the light from the flames. The bullets hovering over Nose's head shot towards the figure, twisting into a complicated pattern. The uniformed monster raised a hand in response, and a curtain of scarlet fire rose up, obliterating the pinpricks of light. The figure walked through the door confidently. With a wave of his hand blades woven from fire appeared at the throats of Honor's four kidnappers. Honor realized that the figure wasn't just covered in fire, he  _was_ fire.  _Grillby?_ He thought. No, Grillby's fire was orange, like a campfire. This monster was a brilliant red.

"Sorry to cut in here fellas." Said the monster. "But you're going to have to close up shop." The four monsters cowered in the back of the room.

"So dramatic." A childlike voice said from behind the blazing figure. A small monster, only about four feet tall, and deathly thin, walked through the door as well. The monster looked fairly normal, like a human child with brown hair a couple of inches long, and wearing a smaller, more disheveled version of the taller flame-monster's uniform, but with a striped armband on the left sleeve. The only thing off about this monster, was that on its forehead, just above the two others, was a third eye, blinking in unison with the rest.

"It helps our image." The fiery monster said, still looking at the four monsters in the back of the room.

"I think you do plenty for our image already." The three-eyed monster mumbled. The fire monster spoke again.

"A Royal Guard patrol has been notified of your presence here, they will arrive in approximately five minutes to arrest you. We will not still be here at that time. If you try to escape before then, or if you give our descriptions to the Royals, we will take you into our custody." He said, "and we have a substantially smaller budget for food, beds, and light, and our incarceration terms are indefinite. Trust me, it will be much more comfortable for you to wait here for your arrest." The three-eyed monster began to examine the numerous papers scattered around the room, glancing at each of them briefly before moving onto the next. The fire-monster resumed. "There should be enough evidence here put each of you in prison for half a decade, but knowing the king, you'll get a month each, plus fines and probation. I would take your chances with them instead of us." The three-eyed monster stopped and pointed at Woody.

"Your boots have stone dust on them, and your belt buckle has the stonecutters insignia. You are a supervisor at the masonry." Woody nodded.

"Yeah, I am."

"It wasn't a question." The three-eyed monster said, turning back to the papers. "When does work start up again on building H-31 C?"

"About three months." Scales replied nervously. "Why?"

"Nothing of your concern." The childlike three-eyed monster replied absentmindedly. He gathered a few of the papers and began to fold them with delicate fingers, bending and creasing them into intricate shapes. The fire-monster conjured a wicked looking knife made of the same red flames as the ones at the four kidnapper's throats. He bent down and sliced Honor's bonds before untying the gag at his mouth.

"Stay quiet." He hissed into Honor's ear. "Go to the door and wait." Honor obeyed, looking around the room nervously. The three-eyed monster had gathered more papers, and was folding them into the same elaborate structure. His thin hands moved with a rapid grace, making sure to touch the paper with only his fingertips.

"Tall one." The three-eyed monster said without glancing up from his work, just a moment before a whirlwind of tiny lights swirled out from behind Nose, snuffing out the red flame at his throat. The lights swirled into several dense tendrils of light and struck out towards the fire-monster. The fire-monster spun on his heels and crossed his arms into an X in front of his body, stretching out his fingers. Tongues of flame formed in the air in front of and around him, intercepting Nose's bullets. Nose stood and waved his arms wildly, flinging hordes of tiny lights at the fiery soldier in front of him in patterns of increasing complexity. From the same X position, the fire-monster twitched his fingers, sometimes touching one to his thumb, or bending it so far as to touch his palm. The flames surrounding him responded to his movements, intercepting each of the tiny lights as they approached, some clearing fields with sweeping motions, others striking like vipers to block sharp lances of Nose's bullet pattern. For several tense seconds, Honor crouched in the doorway, ready to bolt at a moment's notice as the two monsters fought. The three-eyed monster didn't react, snatching a paper thrown into the air by his comrade's magic and folding it into his creation.

With a swift motion, one of the fire monster's hands darted out, grabbing at the air. A mass of fire coiled around Nose's leg at the same moment. In one smooth motion, the fire-monster turned and threw Nose at the wall opposite Nose's former position. Pulled by the fire on his leg, Nose shot through the air and crashed into the stone wall, crumpling to the ground defeated. With a wave of his hand, the fire-monster brought the flaming blades back up to the throats of Honor's three other kidnappers, who had begun to sneak away in the commotion.

"What I said before still applies." The fire-monster growled at them. He turned and grabbed Honor's arm and pulled him out into the street. "Come on." He said. "We need to go." The three-eyed monster left his creation and followed them out. Sitting on the table was an impressive approximation of some type of castle, made entirely of folded paper. The fire-monster led Honor at a brisk pace for several blocks before letting go of his arm with a sigh, and stopping. He turned to Honor and stretched out his hand. Honor took it, and they shook hands.

"I'm sergeant Lith Chlide, gendarmerie." He said.

"My name is Honor." Honor replied. The three-eyed monster poked Honor sharply in the ribs, causing him to jump. The monster's stare seemed to pierce him, breaking him down into his component parts and sorting him into neat little piles, all with just his gaze.

"Honor." The little monster said, cocking its head. "Peculiar name, but it fits. Mine is Rail." Honor reached out to shake Rail's hand, but the peculiar little monster shook his head.

"Sorry, Rail doesn't shake hands." Lith said in an apologetic tone.

"Why not?" Honor asked. In response Rail showed Honor his palms. Honor opened his mouth to inquire further, but the words stuck in his throat when Rail's palms opened up to reveal in each, a brilliant, blue eye.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Series of Words Arranged in a Specific Order to Suit the Needs of the One Who Typed Them (Because Author's Note is too mainstream): Stuff is finally happening, so that's cool. Now about that lecture from Gaster, wow, it really seems like he has experience with operating under extreme pressure, doesn't it? Huh, weird. Anyway, you've now met the first of my original monsters for the first time, so please tell me what you think of them.
> 
> Credit for the cover image to this story goes to the magnificent artist César Mosquera, for a fantastic rendering of Honor. I added the lightning bolts, because I thought they looked cool.
> 
> If you liked the story, leave a review, or something. If you didn't like it, I would advise you find a better use for your time than reading this. Really, that advice should go for everybody, but hey, I shouldn't complain. I'm spending way more time writing this time then you are reading it. So I'm a little hypocritical.
> 
> Word of the day: Gendarmerie. Country of origin? France. If you want to know more, google it.


	7. Chapter 7: Forgotten Comrades

Undersworn

Chapter 7: Forgotten Comrades

_To take a life, or to lose your own. Are the actions really so different?_

* * *

"hey grillby, can you get an order of fries over here please?" Sans called, sitting down at the bar with a sigh. Grillby's resonated with familiar sounds, giving some small comfort to his tumultuous heart. He reached to take a sip from a nearby ketchup bottle, only to find it was empty. Darnit. He'd finished it off on one of his earlier breaks, and Grillby hadn't refilled it yet. Sans closed his eyes. He tried to smother the part of himself that was urging him to act. That little spark was persistent, resisting the smothering heaviness and exhaustion of apathy. It echoed of memories long forgotten, things he'd left behind, things he couldn't quite touch.

 _It's no use._ He thought. He'd spent years chasing that spark, trying to fan it into a flame. It never worked. He might as well ignore it until it left. Not to mention, from what he could gather he was stuck in a RESET cycle. Probably one that had been going on for a long time, if he was any judge. The human kid presided over the cycle, that much was clear, even before the somewhat blatant statements from the second human. The child never seemed surprised, and had made his way through Snowdin with scarcely a wasted movement. However, the child's composure completely fell apart when the second human had appeared. For the first time, it had been surprised, and shown genuine emotion.

The second human itself posed another quandary. It was older, yet every facial expression it conveyed showed less experience than the first child. That made sense if the first child had engaged in a substantial number of resets, but the second human—Honor, he had been called—showed some awareness of the situation, if not particular knowledge of how to deal with it. In the moments before he had arranged for a call to Undyne, his eyes had betrayed desperation, backed by intense resolve. In the vein of Undyne coming, the first child—Frisk—

was as clueless about how to act as Honor was. Evidently, this Honor had manipulated the timeline in a course it did not usually take. All factors indicated Honor was an aberration, not normally present in the cycle.

 _Whoop dee doo me,_ Sans thought,  _I'm in a special timeline. Whole lotta good that'll do me when the kid just resets…_ Sans shook his head. There was no use in playing hero here. His actions would be erased as soon as it fit the pleasure of that greedy little brat to turn the clock back again.

"Sans," a voice cut through Sans' thoughts, snapping him back to the present. His eyes formed once more in his sockets. He hadn't even noticed he'd gone dark during his reflection. He looked up to see his fries on the bar in front of him, and Grillby standing there with his arms crossed, staring at him.

"sorry grillbz, spaced out for a sec," Sans said. Grillby sighed.

"I think I have a pretty good idea of what you were thinking about." Grillby said.

"trust me," Sans muttered, "you don't." Grillby held his gaze until Sans turned his face down to his meal.

"I talked to one of the humans Sans. He had some interesting things to say."

"i'll bet he did."

"He claimed he has a duty."

"who cares about duty?"

"I do." Grillby leaned forward, flaming eyes seeming to drill into Sans' soul. "You did too, once." Sans grunted. Grillby continued. "He said he was supposed to stop the other human, the child. That the child had done some very bad things. He was very clear about that, although he didn't have the faintest idea how he was going to do it." Bad things huh? That certainly fit with what Sans had gathered. The faint shadows of memory he tore from other timelines often reeked of death.

"why are you telling me this?" Sans asked.

"Because I don't think we can sit back and wait on this one."

"what do you mean?"

"I've seen six humans fall into the Underground. Six times, I did what was expected of me. I, watched as Asgore collected their souls, I didn't even think twice about it. But, something is different this time. I can hear the call Sans, it's been silent for so long… I thought I had grown deaf to it. You might act like everything is normal Sans, but I've known you for too long. You can hear it too. The call to action. I thought I had put that behind me, but I feel just like I did back then." Grillby burned brighter, hotter, becoming invigorated as he spoke. When he was finished, he straightened himself and adjusted his eyeglasses, almost embarrassed.

"you're mistaken." Sans said. "this is no great war, this is not an enemy you can fight."

"You aren't joking. You haven't since you left earlier, just before Undyne came. You know I'm right." Grillby replied.

"no, you're wrong about me," Sans said. "i never fought in your war. i'm just a sentry in a sleepy little town, always have been."

"You weren't always what you are." Grillby spoke quietly, grabbing a dirty glass and wiping it down.

"then why can't i remember a time when i wasn't?"

* * *

"And you're sure it was Mettaton that let them out?" Asgore said. He stood between two cells, both of their locks had been blasted open by a monster with substantial magical ability.

"He was the only one it could have been! Argh! I'm going to turn him into scrap metal for this!" Shouted Undyne. Asgore sighed. Undyne was highly capable, but she lacked patience.

"It is fine. The human will come to us in time." Asgore explained.

"Humans." Undyne corrected. "There are two of them."

"But we only need one."

"Both of them challenged me Asgore, honor demands—"

"Honor demands nothing of you about this." Asgore said, firmly. "We are at a state of war, and the codes of war give me, your king, the right to suspend any duels I deem inconsequential."

"But sir—" Undyne began, but was cut off again by a small messenger monster fluttering into the room.

"Captain! There is a disturbance in the city that requires your attention!" The messenger noticed Asgore, "Oh, your majesty, forgive me, I did not know you were here."

"What disturbance?" Undyne asked.

"A Guard patrol responded to an anonymous tip, and found what they believe to be a thief's den in the city."

"Good, what do you need me for?"

"It appears that somebody else got there before we did."

Asgore followed the messenger to the scene, despite assurances from both the messenger and Undyne that Asgore was not needed. He told them it would do him some good to be out of the castle. It was true, he had spent far too much time alone since Toriel… No, he couldn't think about that right now.

When they arrived, a pair of Royal Guards flanked an open door. They saluted when he approached, whether from seeing their captain approaching, or their king, he didn't know. Undyne walked past them without a word, stepping into the gray, stone building. Asgore followed her, giving a nod to the guards. The inside of the room was a mess, tables and chairs were strewn about everywhere, and sheaves of paper littered the floor. Burn marks marred the room, streaks of blackened wood and stone. One of the guards followed them inside.

"We apprehended four suspects inside. We found evidence of criminal activities, and all of them confessed, but they clammed up after that. Not one of them would tell us what messed the place up like this."

"How did you find out about them?" Asgore asked.

"Anonymous tip." The guard responded. "Somebody managed to sneak a note right into my hand without me noticing. We came to investigate and found it with the door wide open and three of the thieves cowering over there." The guard gestured toward the back wall. Meanwhile, Asgore's eyes were drawn to one of the tables, upon which stood a peculiar paper construction of a building. Asgore's eyes widened in shock. He knew that building.

"But you said there were four of them." Undyne challenged.

"There are. The fourth was over there, pretty beat up and with his clothes all scorched. Someone busted these thieves before we did, and whoever it was scared them bad."

"A rival criminal group? Or do we have a vigilante on our hands?" Undyne asked.

"It's hard to say." The guard replied.

"Asgore, what do you think? Asgore?" Undyne turned to Asgore, who was staring blankly at the paper fort.

"How did they know… Who could have done this…" Asgore whispered to himself.

"That's what we're trying to figure out." Undyne said. She noticed him looking at the paper fort. "What's this? Bah!" She moved to knock it over, but Asgore's hand shot out to block her.

"No!" He said firmly.

"Asgore, what…" She trailed off, seeing the intensity in his eyes. They stood awkwardly for several moments, silent.

"Undyne, when did you last see Gerson?" Asgore asked quietly.

"Gerson? It's been a few weeks, why?"

"I think we should pay him a visit."

The walk to Waterfall was long, made longer by the suffocating silence that hung between them.  _There's no way, it's impossible._ Asgore thought,  _But if it is…_ Asgore entered Gerson's shop and was greeted with an enthusiastic greeting.

"Well whadd'ya know! Old Flufffybuns himself came down for a meetin'! To what to I owe the pleasure?" He called. Undyne followed Asgore, a wide grin splitting her face when she saw her old mentor.

"There has been a… development… in the capital that I wish to question you about." Asgore said.

"Asgore, why are we asking Gerson about this? He couldn't have anything to do with it." Undyne said.

"It's no problem, I'll answer your questions. I have to say though, I don't know how much help I'll be. I haven't been to the capital in a couple a' years. It's just too crowded in there for me." Gerson said, leaning against his counter. Asgore cleared his throat nervously.

"Do you remember Skybreaker Hold? From before the war?" He said, voice nearly breaking at the name. Gerson stilled, his smile slowly fading.

"It has been a long time." Gerson said after a pause, choosing his words carefully. "I like to not remember it." Asgore nodded with understanding while Undyne glanced between the two, confusion on her face.

"Skybreaker Hold? What's that?" She asked. Asgore opened his mouth to dismiss her question, but was cut off by Gerson.

"An old place," he said, "on the surface, one that few people know of anymore." He stared at Asgore. "Did you come here just to remind me of things lost forever?"

"No." Asgore replied. "As I said, there was an incident in the capital."

"Wait, that paper castle, it was this Sky-whatever thing?" Undyne said. Gerson's eyebrows shot up.

"Paper castle? Explain." Gerson said. Asgore sighed.

"My guards found a group of thieves scared half to death, with scorch marks all around them, and next to them was a paper replica of Skybreaker Hold, exact, down to the last detail." Gerson stood up straighter. "and you're the only one in the Underground that has ever seen it. Besides me of course."

"And Toriel." Gerson added, prompting a wince from Asgore.

"Yes, and her." He replied.

"Scorch marks…" Gerson wondered, "…could it be her?"

"No." Asgore said firmly. "The patterns were not the same. She uses fireballs, these burns were thin and straight, ribbons."

"Ribbons." Gerson said, his eyes glazing over slightly. "Hard to pull off, but effective. Especially against humans. That's why we taught them to our soldiers." Undyne alternated between staring at Gerson and Asgore. "Someone who uses ribbons of fire," Gerson continued, "who knows what Skybreaker looks like, and was enough to scare a group of miscreants out of their shoes? Could it be…" Gerson trailed off, a somber note creeping into his voice.

"Can someone tell me what's going on!" Undyne shouted. Gerson didn't appear to notice.

"So you had no part in this?" Asgore asked. Gerson shook his head.

"No, but if this person knows about Skybreaker, I mean to find out who they are." He said. A smile tugged at Asgore's lips.

"I figured you would say that."

"You know me too well king Fluffybuns."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Message from the Person Who is Getting to Tired of Coming Up With New Things to Call These (because Author's Note is too mainstream): There you go, about 2,000 words of almost exclusively dialogue. If you're big into mysteries, take a peek at the chapter title, yeah? Also, I like reviews. Alot. Please, by making me beg you're robbing me of my dignity! Haha, just kidding. I never had any of that in the first place. But reviews are nice, they let me know what I'm doing right and wrong. Even if you don't see any big mistakes, throw in your favorite moment from the story, or a line that stuck with you. That sort of stuff is extremely helpful. Also, there's a reference to one of my inspirations in this chapter. If you didn't get it, you probably won't be able to find it, but if you think you saw one, you probably did. Point it out and I'll give you a shoutout. Also, any questions, I will answer. Whether or not it is the answer you're looking for depends on the question. Goodbye my dear readers!


	8. Chapter 8: Practice Makes Perfect

Undersworn

Chapter 8: Practice Makes Perfect

_These questions we asked ourselves, but we never really wanted the answer._

* * *

"You expect us to believe that you're some reincarnated human, destined to save the world?" Lith asked Honor, disbelief in his voice. They were in a dry, well-kept cave, more like a house than anything else. Honor and Lith stood in the open center of the room, while Rail crouched in an alcove that looked as if it were completely devoted to chaos. Papers, dense with writing so small Honor couldn't read it littered the floor and the various shelves mounted in the alcove. Rail occasionally wrote on these papers, or crossed out something he had already written, and folded them into intricate shapes, as he had when the two monsters had rescued Honor.

"I don't expect you to believe me. I'm not sure I would believe me either." Honor said. "But I do need to stop Frisk, the other human, from getting to the end. If he does, he'll kill everyone."

"Rail?" Lith called.

"We're helping him." The childish monster replied, setting a stone paperweight on a stack of documents.

"Well there you go." Lith said with a shrug. "But what do you mean by 'the end?'" He asked. Honor clutched his head in his hands, trying to remember. How was it that he knew some things as sure as he knew his name, and others were clouded deep within his mind, if they were there at all?

"The barrier," Honor said eventually. "We have to keep Frisk from crossing the barrier."

"Easier said than done." Lith replied. "The royalists are under orders to let any humans go straight through to Asgore should they make it to the palace intact."

"You're soldiers though, right?" Honor asked. "You called yourself a sergeant. Couldn't you stop them?" Lith chuckled.

"If I got the human in front of me? It wouldn't stand a chance. But the royalists would stop us. There are only two of us, and dozens of them. I can't handle that many without accidentally killing one." Lith said, pacing back and forth.

"Two? There are three of us!" Honor said. Lith scoffed.

"Tell me, do you even know how to fight? I saw your face after we rescued you."

"Well, I—"

"You can't fight, and you're human, so you can't manifest any magical attacks. Well, not anything useful anyways. Your soul is strong—well, strong to the average monster at least, pitiful for a human—so you'll be able to take your licks, but why should you be out there in the first place? What am I supposed to do with yo—"

"Teach him." Rail cut his comrade off, surprising both Honor and Lith.

"What?" Lith asked.

"He doesn't know how to fight, you do. We're helping him, preferably without instigating his untimely death in the process, so the most logical course of action is for you to train him." Rail explained. "He can be taught. Look, he can even move like a soldier."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Honor asked. Rail spun, flinging his paperweight at Honor. It flew by his head, and it took Honor a moment to realize it had passed through the space his head had been a moment ago. He'd stepped to the side before he could think about it. Maybe he had inherited instincts from one of the souls.

"Maybe." Lith said, cocking his head. "But either way, even if I could train you overnight, three people isn't enough to storm the royal palace."

" _We don't need to storm the palace."_ Gaster interjected into Honor's mind.

 _What do you mean?_ Honor thought.

" _Removing your progenitors, the six human souls, from the equation should be sufficient for our purposes."_ Gaster said.  _"Frisk has committed to not killing any monsters, they cycle will not be complete without the souls."_

_How do you know that?_

" _My memory is not completely destroyed, and the wheel has turned enough times for many parts of the cycle to become… ingrained."_  Honor relayed Gaster's suggestion to the soldiers, without revealing that he had a disembodied voice in his head. They already thought he was crazy enough as it was. Lith put his hand to his chin, thinking. Rail just nodded.

"Good. We will steal the souls. And we three will not be alone in our excursion to the palace. I have arranged for some assistance to meet us here in a day or two's time." Rail said.

"Assistance?" Honor asked.

"Yes." Rail replied, not volunteering any further information.

"Alright then, well, with that out of the way, can either of you tell me who you are?" Honor said. A silence filled the room. Rail continued writing and folding, as if Honor had said nothing at all, and Lith shuffled nervously, avoiding Honor's gaze. "You're soldiers, so shouldn't you be under the king's command?

"No!" Lith spat, seemingly outraged by the idea.

"Then where did you get the rank of sergeant? And what kind of uniforms are those?"

"We answer to a… rightful authority." Lith said, choosing his words carefully. "One whose presence is not widely known." Honor considered that. Was there some secret military faction hiding in the fringes of the Underground?  _Gaster, do you know anything about this?_

" _Sadly, I do not."_ The doctor replied.

"So, are you different from Asgore's kingdom?" Honor asked.

"No." Lith said frimly. "We are citizens of the same nation as everybody else down here. The kingdom's laws themselves give us the power to do what we do." Lith paused, "Although, if Asgore found out we were capitalizing upon the codes this way, he might change them. That is why we prefer to keep ourselves secret." Lith shifted nervously, as if this was not something he talked about often. In his alcove, Rail knocked down a tower he had constructed from the papers, shuffling them and rearranging them again. "Anyways, that isn't important right now," Lith said, changing the subject. "We need to see what you'll be like in combat." Lith raised one hand, and five translucent flaming scimitars formed in the air around Honor. With a few dexterous finger motions, the attacks streaked towards Honor, stopping centimeters from his skin. "Huh, interesting. Rail, look at this." Lith said. Rail glanced over.

"His soul?" The childish monster asked.

"Yes, his soul."

"It isn't appearing."

"That's what I'm asking you about. Human souls appear in the presence of monster attacks, right?"

"You are correct."

"And this is a human."

"Still correct."

"So why isn't his soul appearing?"

"It is too weak. It cannot leave his body."

"Would you care to explain yourself to those of us who do not have the privilege of being you, Rail?"

"Of course." Rail replied. "Monster souls are tied to our bodies because it provides the magic that sustains them, and our souls are too weak to travel outside the controlled environment it creates for itself. Humans have physical bodies, with souls much stronger than monster souls. Most humans, if properly trained, can move their souls about within a certain distance from their physical body. A few yards, for most of them. Some monsters can magically restrict this field of motion, at the cost of much exertion. When presented with a Class I magical attack, as is the case right now, human souls generally pop out of their bodies, and start moving around according to the human's will in order to avoid them. Since this has not occurred, there are three possible circumstances. First, that Honor here is secretly a monster. This possibility can be ruled out, as Honor possesses a body of flesh and blood and bone. The second possibility is that Honor has undergone a Zahel Binding. My observations have proven that to not be the case."

"Zay-hell what?" Honor asked. Lith ignored him.

"Finally, Honor's soul could simply be too weak to leave his body. This is almost certainly the case." Lith nodded.

"Alright then. You can't dance the souls. I guess we'll have to teach you to dance with swords." Lith grinned. "I know much more about this. Now, I want to see what I'm working with here. Get into a stance."

"Now?" Honor asked.

"Now."

"But I don't even have a weapon. How am I supposed to learn how to fight without a weapon?"

"You'll get a weapon when I say you're good enough not to kill yourself with it. Now get into a stance." Lith spoke with iron hard authority, the insecurity from before gone completely. Honor bent his knees slightly, holding his hands out in front of him, clenched into fists. Lith walked in a slow circle around Honor, surveying him. "Those fists won't do you any good. Open hands." He said, showing Honor the proper position for his hands and arms. Honor corrected himself. Lith stopped, standing off to Honor's side. He shoved Honor with one hand, sending him splaying to the ground.

"What was that for!" Honor grumbled, scrambling to his feet.

"Your stance was atrocious. Get lower, feet staggered. If you stand up that high you'll get knocked over by a strong breeze. Stance! Again! And do it better this time!" Honor followed Lith's directions, getting lower with his feet staggered, one farther forward than the other. He was still adjusting his feet, trying to get them exactly right, when Lith rapped him on the back of the head with his knuckles.

"Ow!" Honor cried.

"I said get lower, not to bend over at your waist. Back straighter, eyes up. No! Don't straighten your legs, you need to be ready to move!" Honor rushed to obey the soldier's instructions, correcting himself as the criticisms came. Lith stood in front of him and summoned a curved saber, about three feet long and wrought from crimson flame. "You need to be fast." Lith said.

"What's that for?" Honor said.

"Motivation." Lith swung the sword and Honor ducked, the movement coming easily from his coiled position. He stayed there for a second too long though, staring at Lith, eyes wide, before Lith shoved him with his foot, leaving Honor sprawled on his backside.

"Get back in your stance." Lith said. Honor caught a glimpse of Rail smiling as he stood up again. "Feet too wide." Lith said casually as he kicked one of Honor's feet outward, sending Honor crashing onto one knee. He pulled himself back into the stance without Lith telling him to this time. Lith stood back and watched Honor. He cocked his head to look at something behind him. "Hey, is that Frisk?" Honor's head snapped in the direction Lith had looked. The next thing he knew, the cool stone wall of the cave pressed against Honor's back, and Lith was grasping him by his shirt. "Don't get distracted. You lack focus." The flame monster stepped back with a sigh, letting go of Honor. "In combat, if you become distracted, you will be killed" Honor watched Lith warily as he rubbed the spots where the cave wall had jutted into his back.

"That was a cheap trick." He accused.

"In a fight, no trick is cheap, so long as it grants you victory," Lith said, as if reciting something that had been told to him repeatedly. "Your opponents will talk to you, try to get inside your head. You cannot allow them to do so. If you do, you will die." Lith rubbed his temples slowly. "But how am I supposed to teach you to think? By Stars I'm just a soldier!"

"By Stars?" Honor asked, curious at the expression. Lith waved a hand of dismissal.

"It's nothing—" He began, but was interrupted by Rail.

"It is far from nothing. Us monsters used to worship the stars. Well, not exactly, but that statement comes as close to the truth as any other of its length." Rail stood up from his crouched position in the paper-strewn alcove. "I can teach you to focus, in the same way that you, Lith, learned yourself from our shared master." Lith reluctantly stepped away, letting Rail step up in front of Honor, measuring up well over a foot shorter than the human in length. "Don't worry," Rail said with a smile, "my teaching does not entail quite so much physical trauma." Honor nodded, glad.

"I want you to close your eyes," Rail said. "your mind is cluttered with thoughts and emotions. In order to utilize your mind at its full capability, you will need to ignore them."

"How can I ignore my own thoughts?" Honor asked.

"I am about to teach you. We call it the void."

" _The void?"_ Gaster asked in Honor's mind.

"It is a concentration tactic," Lith continued, oblivious to Gaster's comment, "devised by Tam— well, it doesn't matter. You just need to know how it is done. Now, close your eyes." Honor closed them. "Imagine your mind as a void. In the center of that void is a flame," Honor imagined the flame. "Feed your thoughts, your emotions, and your worries into the flame. Let it consume them, until the void is empty of all except for you and the flame."  _This is ridiculous._ Honor thought, but he followed instructions, mentally feeding his thoughts, including his doubts about this "void," into the flame. In his mind's eye, the flame seemed to grow… purer, as it consumed his thoughts. Eventually, the void was dark and empty, except for that flame in the center. Even as he concentrated—no, it wasn't concentration anymore, it just  _was_ —the flame split into six. Six flames of six different colors, joined at the base by a single white-hot coal. Bolts of lightning arced between the flames.

"You see it, don't you?" Rail's voice echoed through the void. Honor heard the words, and understood them, but did not reflect deeper upon them. Thoughts flowed across the void like water, crossing his consciousness, but not pooling there. "Your SOUL. It can appear in many forms, depending on your training, but this one will suit our purposes. Open your eyes." Honor opened his eyes, meeting Rail's intense crystal gaze. His eyes took in his surroundings, but his mind held the void. A smile tugged at Rail's lips. "Alright Lith, he's ready for you." Lith straightened himself from where he had been leaning against the wall.

"Stance!" He called. Honor fell into the stance he had earlier, knees bent, eyes on Lith, with his muscles somehow feeling loose, and taut at the same time. A stray thought crossed his mind that this should not have come this easily, but it skittered across the top of the void and fell into the flame without Honor dwelling on it.

Without warning, Lith rushed toward Honor, shoulder dropped. Honor sidestepped the charge easily enough, but then a prompting filled him, and consumed in the void, he did not question it. As Lith passed him, Honor's hand shot out to push the soldier off balance. His blow connected, but Lith twisted, using the force of Honor's push to spin, swinging his flaming saber in Honor's direction. He danced backward, feet never leaving the floor for more than a fraction of a second, dropping back into the stance.

"Better." Lith admitted, begrudgingly. A proud smile crossed Honor's face, and the void broke. Lith's next strike was at Honor's feet, making Honor leap into the air with a yelp. In the moment before he landed, in a swirl of crimson flame, Lith was behind him, holding the saber to his throat. "But don't get cocky." He dismissed the blade, and Honor let out the breath he didn't know he had been holding.

"Find the void again," Rail said. "Using it takes practice, but mastery of it is as useful as any skill with a blade."

"You won't touch a blade if I can help it." Lith said. "At least not until we clean up your protective footwork. Many monsters are much shorter than you. Your legs will be prime targets. Back into your stance! Now, watch me…"

They trained like that for a couple of hours. The void never came to Honor again so easily as it had the first time, and when it did he did not fare so well against Lith as he had that time either, but it helped. Lith taught him footwork, and admitted that Honor was faster than most beginners to the art of combat. Rail went back to his peculiar habit of writing and folding, hands delicately creasing the paper, dancing across the edges with his fingertips so as to not harm the eyes on his palms. Eventually, Lith proclaimed that their training was completed for the day.

"I am done working with you for now," He clarified. "If you hope to be of any help when we relieve the king of those souls, I recommend you work on the things I showed you as often as you can."

"Just as well." Rail said, standing up. "There are a few things we need to do."

"What are we doing?" Honor asked between heavy breaths, wiping sweat from his brow.

"You are staying here. Me and Lith are gathering intelligence." Rail said. Lith nodded, and followed Rail as he strode to the reinforced oaken door at the cave mouth, opening into a rock face just beyond the fringe of the capital.

"Practice the forms!" Lith called as they left. "If they are perfect, I might teach you how to wield a stick tomorrow!"

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Appendix (because "Author's Note" is too mainstream): You just got a taste of two of my original characters. If you can figure out why they got the names they have, kudos to you. One of them has a deep poetic reason, and the other is a bad pun. Another homage in this chapter, if you have read the right books to recognize it. Reviews/comments are nice, especially if you throw in your favorite and/or least favorite moments. I'm an author-in-training, I need feedback to grow. Y'all are awesome for reading this far, thanks for wasting your time on a little writer like me. (Huh, I think I might start using that more, "y'all")


	9. Interlude I: Human?

Undersworn

Interlude: Human?

_********* ago…_

_The human quailed in fear. The feelings of violent attacks piercing the tranquility of a soul at rest were familiar, if painful. But this… this was different. The sensation of a malignant being oozing in, creeping through defenses that had never failed before, it was something else entirely. The human child expected to die any moment, but that peaceful rest never came. The vile, sickening creature permeated their being, seizing the human's very identity as its own._

" _What are you doing to me?"_

_No response._

" _Why are you doing this to me?"_

_Still nothing._

" _What are you? What are you really?"_

_The human felt a deep chortle resonate through the horrid being, reverberating through the human's own soul, sending repugnant waves through the human's being. The child would have wretched, if they could._

" _What am I?" The creature replied, speaking with the voice of the human's own thoughts. It was nearly as disconcerting as the revolting essence of the human's soul. "Oh, you disgusting child, the only thing that matters now, is that I am_ You."  _Death slipped closer, the child reached for it, clawed for it, a permanent end. But even as they tried to lose themselves to the blackness forever, that repulsive creature held to something, some semblance of half-life, holding the child with it.._

" _Oh no. I won't let you get away that easily. You invited me here, so here I will stay."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Informational Passage About Happenings Within the Story and Without (because "Author's Note" is too mainstream, and audience submissions are easier than coming up with a title for these on my own. Based on StormGaming's suggestion): Not a full chapter, but the first of our interludes. Sorry for any disappointment this may have caused. Also, Iavasechui got one of my references, so good on you! I'm doing camp NaNoWriMo this April, so updates may slow, because I'm splitting time between three projects. Anyways, reviews help me improve, so keep them coming. Especially if you include favorite/least favorite parts or lines of the story!


	10. Chapter 9: Trials, Part 1

Undersworn

Chapter 9: Trials

_We fought the darkness for so long, we began to think we were invincible, considering these as hypotheticals._

* * *

_Left foot, right foot, turn, step back, switch leading feet…_

Honor worked through the footwork drills Lith had taught him, trying to hold the unimpeded focus of the void in his mind to no avail. With a sigh, he stopped, wiping a few drops of sweat from his brow. Closing his eyes, Honor concentrated on that six-tongued flame. He saw it in his mind's eye, consuming everything that was him, because it  _was_ him. Eventually, he thought he'd achieved a state close enough to the first time he had done it. Honor opened his eyes again. A familiar voice rang through the room.

"Oh! Now this is interesting."

Honor spun on his heel, his concentration shattering. He caught a glimpse of a shadowy figure just before it winked away, leaving no evidence that it had been there.

" _Hmm. This 'void' may have more to do with my prison than I initially assumed."_ Gaster said, voice echoing inside Honor's head.  _What do you mean?_ Honor thought.

" _When you held your focus, I was able to manifest, if faintly, in the physical world. Without hardly any effort at all. Please, try again, and do not allow yourself to become distracted."_ Honor rubbed his temples. The doctor's explanations almost always raised nearly as many questions as they answered. Even so, Honor cleared his mind again, thinking of that mesmerizing flame—his soul, or a form of it, apparently—and entranced himself in the void. When he opened his eyes, standing in front of him was a tall, sinewy figure that he recognized as Gaster, like he appeared in Honor's dreams. Except now, he wasn't composed of scraps, but looked complete. Keeping the flame at the center of his consciousness, Honor carefully spoke.

"How are you here?" The figure blinked, turning his attention to Honor.

"How? I am not entirely sure. I am still not entirely whole, though it appears I can pretend it; my soul is no more complete than it ever has been in the time you have existed. However, with your soul bared in that way, I have a conduit to appear in this world, temporarily at least, without substantial energy expenditure. Allow me for a moment." Gaster turned away from Honor and approached a chair at the edge of the cave. He reached out a thin hand to touch it, slowly. His fingers passed through the wood as if it were not there. "So I was correct," Gaster mused, "I am not truly here in the flesh." Honor stared at Gaster, who gazed at the chair for several seconds, not moving except to draw his hand back to himself. After a moment, Gaster snapped his head back to look at Honor, barking at him authoritatively. "If you continue doing nothing, your mind will wander. Find an activity to occupy yourself while I experiment."

Honor fell into his stance, working through the forms as Lith had taught them, attempting to put Gaster out of his mind. Occasionally, he caught a glimpse of the tall, stygian-clad figure poking around the cave. The doctor seemed to spend an inordinate amount of time in Rail's alcove, peering at the numerous papers. More than once, Honor caught him reaching out as if to shift them, before pulling his hands back from the futile action. Eventually, Gaster spoke once more.

"We will have to keep an eye on this one," the monster mused. "This Rail, I mean. His observations are impressive, especially for one so young."

"Young?" Honor replied, voice level, taking care to keep the multicolored flame in his mind as he sidestepped an imaginary blow.

"Of course, the child cannot be more than fourteen, maybe fifteen years old," Gaster said. "His kind is not so common, but I have met a few of them before. Although, in my current state I have not the faintest idea when the meeting occured."

"And the other one?" Honor asked, leaping back from a strike at his legs from his phantom opponent.

"He is young as well, at least, for his particular people." Gaster said.

"What do you mean?"

"He is probably in the realm of fifty years old," Gaster explained, "but that would still put him in his mid-to-late adolescent years." Honor halted his practice and shook his head in disbelief.  _Fifty years old! And what am I? Three days now?_

" _Focus, child."_ Gaster's voice spoke in his mind. Honor jumped, the doctor's tall form had disappeared from the cave.  _Sorry,_ he thought, bringing the odd flame to the point of his consciousness again. He could not maintain his concentration for more than a second though, as doubts clouded his mind.  _Three days old! Why am I even doing this? Gaster said it! I'm a child, no, an infant, brought into this world by children. Why am I the one that must do this? Any number of monsters could destroy me in a heartbeat. I should just tell everyone why I'm here, and leave it to them._ His thoughts raced through his mind, not directed toward any particular goal, but barring him from reaching the void that allowed Gaster to slip out from his prison.

" _Careful, Honor. Remember why you fight."_ Gaster's sage words echoed through his being.

"And do  _you_  know why I fight?" Honor asked him, speaking aloud even though he didn't need to, all his worries from the brief span of his existence crashing down on him in a wave now that he turned his attention to them. Faintly, he noticed at the edge of his mind that the six-pointed flame—which part of him still clung to—flickering, and the light blue tongue seemed to wilt. The violet one showed signs of doing the same. "Because I don't."

" _Your name should serve as reason enough,"_ Gaster said with a hard edge to his voice,  _"And if that is not enough for you, fight for your friends, your family—"_

"I don't have any of those!" Honor shouted into the air, his voice echoing through an all too empty room, as if to emphasize his point. He continued, voice waning to a strained whisper, as much to himself as to Gaster. "I don't even know who  _I_  am…" Three days of existence. What was that to find out who he was? Most people took at  _least_  fifteen years, if not upwards of twenty for any answer, if they found one at all. Was he really anything but a shell, a blank slate of a human being, with no other defining characteristics? Given a body and a goal, a goal he pursued because without it…

"I am nothing."

For a while, a thick suffocating silence filled the room. No tears stung Honor's eyes. He felt no sadness, no grief, no pain. He just felt empty. Gaster took form in front of him, facing no resistance from stray thoughts or emotions that were no longer there. He stared down at Honor with a concerned gaze, face softening.

"Perhaps…" Gaster sighed, "Perhaps there is something I can do." Honor's eyes flicked up to meet Gaster's stare. "Your soul was not created by happenstance. It was designed and built by beings far greater than you or I, at least we are now. I can see an element of my own hand in its construction, as I was in a form aided by countless eternities of observation. Backed by the precision and ability of your predecessor—the culmination of six pure human souls—your soul is as intricate as any machine or computer ever designed. You are not normal Honor, you possess certain,  _functions_ , shall we call them, hard-wired into your existence, that no human has ever possessed before you." A faint hint of curiosity drifted into Honor's blank stare. "In my experimentations, I have unearthed one part of your soul that I cannot believe was left there without a purpose."

"Tell it, Gaster." Honor growled. "What are you going to do to me?" The tall monster straightened himself.

"You will be sent into the deepest recesses of your own soul. There you will be tested, at least I think that's what its purpose was. The trials were put there by your six progenitors, I believe perhaps for this specific purpose—"

"Do it." Honor said, voice firm.

"Are you certain that you want to do this?" Gaster warned. "Once it begins I can no more stop it than I can—

"Do it." Honor repeated. "I'm sure."

"Fine then," Gaster said, almost with a touch of pride. "Prepare yourself. Your trials begin."

* * *

It felt as if Honor had been thrown into a lake of icy water. He struggled, clawing to find the surface, but couldn't even tell which way was up. As suddenly as it began, Honor was standing in an endless black void, with six stone archways arranged in a circle around him. Joining him in the circle was Gaster, standing rigid, even as he spoke.

"Choose a door." The doctor said, not even turning his head to look at him. Honor glanced at Gaster, then strode forward and chose the door directly in front of him. He reached out to touch the smooth doorknob, and Gaster's voice boomed out from behind him, speaking in unison with another voice, a clear, resonant tone that seemed to come from everywhere around him.

"Go Honor. Go on fulfiller of oaths. Go on bringer of heroes. Go to find yourself, through a shattered lens." The voices said, as Honor opened the door and strode through.

Into another name, a different place, a separate life.

* * *

The only sounds Danny could hear were the twin thumps of his heart and of his feat hitting the asphalt. Two drumbeats pounding out the rhythm as he sprinted down the street. Little Tom, a boy only slightly older than half his age ran behind him, struggling to keep up. Danny pushed himself harder, faster, leaving Little Tom behind without a second thought.  _There!_ Danny rounded the corner into a dark, dirty alley. It was familiar to him, of course. He'd spent his whole life on these streets, he used to play here with his little brother when they slipped away from doing their chores.

Danny immediately picked out a circle of four boys about his age, standing in a circle around a much smaller child. The little boy was whimpering, and shaking like a flag in a fall windstorm.

"Hey!" Danny called out, face set in a cold hard fury. The four boys turned to look at him. The little one lifted his head to do the same, but yelped and curled up in a ball again as one of the taller boys delivered a swift kick in the direction of his head. Danny clenched his fists. One of the boys, tall and broad-shouldered for their age, cracked a smile as he looked at Danny. Eric, was his name. He was cocky piece of crud at his best, always had been and always would be, but this time he had gone  _way_ too far.

"Yo! Dan-man!" Eric called out mockingly. "Glad you could come! Wanna join in? It's fun." The little kid on the ground let out a whine, ending in a sharp yelp as he was kicked again. Little Tom came around the corner into the mouth of the alley, sucking air hard.

"Th- whew! There they are!" He cried out, pointing at the four boys.

"Thanks Tom." Danny said, staring Eric down. "Go on, get help." The smaller boy whiped at the sheen of sweat on his face.

"I already did though. I got you." He said. Danny shook his head.

"Get out of here Tom, run, and don't come back unless you got a blastin'  _army_ to back you up, got that?" Danny couldn't see the boy's reaction, staring at Eric as he was, but after a few seconds he heard Little Tom's pounding footsteps getting him the hell out of there. Just like Danny probably should've.

"Well well, sending your little punk sidekick off on errands are ya?" Eric taunted. Danny rolled up his sleeves, meeting Eric glare for glare.

The sun was setting behind a bank of clouds, casting the alley in an orange light.

"Let him up." Danny growled, taking a step toward Eric and his goons. Eric's eyes widened in mock fear.

"Oh, of course! Like this?" He turned and lifted the poor little boy up halfway to his feet by the collar of his shirt before slamming his fist into the kid's already bloodied face. The little boy crumpled to the ground, sobbing and clutching his nose, blood streaming between his fingers. Danny surged, forward, darting between Eric's friends and crashing into him. They fell to the ground in a heap, and Danny immediately started pounding at Eric's head, giving him twice as good as he'd given the little kid, and not half of what he deserved. He kept swinging, slamming his fist into Eric's head until two of Eric's goons hauled him off. They held him, thrashing, as Eric pulled himself to his feet.

"You're gonna pay for that Dan—" His threat was cut off as Danny landed a kick on the knee of the guy holding his right arm. The goon cursed, clutching his kneecap as Danny wrenched himself free of the other goon and planted another solid fist to Eric's face. He could feel the satisfying crunch of Eric's nose under his knuckles.

Before he could land another punch the two goons grabbed him again and slammed him into the alley wall. They took turns hitting him in the stomach, keeping him from sucking in enough breath to really fight back. They stopped, and Danny raised his head to see Eric, recovered and stalking toward him, face contorted with unbridled rage.

"Oh, you think you're tough huh? You think you got steel in yer gut do ya Danny-boy? Let's see if you're so tough after  _this!"_ Danny's face snapped to the side with the force of the blow, his vision swimming.  _If they're beatin' me,_ he though,  _that means they aren't beatin' the little guy at least._

That thought brought at least some small comfort as fists crashed into his head, over and over again. Of course, when they were done with him, he wouldn't be able to really help the little kid, would he?

* * *

Honor gasped. He was back in that dark void with Gaster, surrounded by the six doors. As he watched the one he had just gone through cracked, then crumbled into dust.  _I didn't save the kid._ Honor thought.  _I failed._ He could remember being Danny, he could remember having a life to remember, but the only of Danny's memories that he retained were those from the time he'd spent as him. The whole thing was enough to give Honor a headache. Who was Danny? It couldn't be one of the souls, he didn't think any of them had ever gotten quite that old. Gaster spoke

_"Without stars born_

_Without stars left"_

The doctor's voice trailed off, as if his statement was incomplete, as it certainly seemed to be.  _Without stars born? What does that mean?_ Turning his attention once more to Gaster, Honor started to get angry.

"What was that about! You send me to some weird place just to watch some poor kid get beat up, and to get me beat up too? What's wrong with you?!" He shouted. The slender dark-clad monster didn't respond. Honor threw his hands into the air. "Fine, that's just great. Now the one person I can talk to is acting like some sort of  _stoic_ all of the sudden!" He stood there for another minute, staring down the taller monster.  _Alright then,_ he thought,  _I guess I'll just go through another door._ He approached another of the remaining five doors at random, placing his hand on the knob, half-expecting Gaster to say something, or that strange voice that had spoken when he had gone through the other door. When none did, he pulled the door open and walked through.

Another name, a different place, a separate life.

* * *

Parran heard the nervous shuffling of feet and jostling of spears from behind him. With a quick hand signal, the soldiers stopped, standing silent as they had been trained to. They hadn't been so careless at the beginning of the campaign, the long months on the march had caused them to lax in their discipline. He would need to speak to his officers about that later. His men were arrayed just behind the crest of a long ridge, hidden from the sight of any persons traveling on the wide road below. He crouched— along with two of his trusted lieutenants—at the top, scanning the wide valley laid out before him. He was positioned to the West of the road, the mountains, too steep to fight upon effectively, to the East. Farther South, he could glimpse the lights from the town Hearthstone, shining through the darkness.

The townsfolk were  _Tolani Raeshe,_ sworn to never take up weapons or war, even in self-defense. So adamant were they in their pacifism that they would not even allow Parran to fortify their town against the coming armies with his own troops. They weren't satisfied as long as his soldiers were within sight of their homes. He suspected if they knew how close he was to them even now, they would try to drive him farther off. But scorches take them if they thought he was going to let them die without fighting tooth and bloody nail to keep them safe.

"General," one of his lieutenants hissed into his ear. "Infantry approaching." Turning his eyes back down the pass, Parran saw a spattering of flickering lights in the distance.

"We hold." He replied.

Iriaes had assured him that her unit would not, fail, so he would give her the time she needed. As the enemy infantry grew nearer, Parran began to receive startling reports about their numbers. They doubled the numbers of his own men in infantry alone, plus several platoons of cavalry. The soldiers behind the hill's crest began to shuffle nervously again. They couldn't see the army they were set to face, but they could see the stream of reports and orders sent to and from Parran. He sent several of the better-liked lieutenants to calm the men. All this waiting would do no good if they were spotted before the trap was sprung.  _Come on Iriaes,_ he thought,  _scorch you this better work!_

As the enemy advanced closer, Parran ordered all of his men, and scouts, to stay behind the crest of the hill. After a moment's more observation, he joined them. They huddled there, hidden from the eyes of their enemies as they approached, drawing closer to the village of innocents not twenty-minutes march off. Parran could hear the thundering footsteps of his enemies, the many familiar sounds that made up the breath of an army on the move. Parran closed his eyes, waiting.

_Hold, hold, hold…_

They were too close to the town. How many soldiers had past their position? Would they all turn to fight, once they battle started, could he protect the innocents? Parran caught the slight sounds of his soldiers readying themselves for battle. _Hold you fools,_ he thought,  _Iriaes needs time!_

Then it happened. The magical sounds of powder explosives, brought hundreds of miles from the chemists who created them, shattering stone across the pass. Iriaes and her unit had set them off on a mountain just down the pass from them, sending countless tons of rock falling down on the enemy ranks.

After a brief wait to allow the rockslide to settle, Parran called for a charge down the hill, lines of soldiers under his banner, a cyan bear on a white background. Iriaes would have taken care of a fair number of their men, and had certainly scared the rest out of their boots, but he still had a battle to win.

Parran commanded the battle his troops from the top of the hill. He wished he was doing it from down there shoulder to shoulder with his soldiers. In his younger years, he had done so. But now, with time catching up to him, Parran settled for his bird's eye view. The battle was going well, but a spike of pain struck at his heart when he saw thick streams of smoke rising from the town. Before Iriaes had struck, the enemy had sent their cavalry on ahead to begin sacking the town. Who knew how many innocents were lost in those flames, to the fires, or to blades from the cavalrymen before they had returned to the battle to assist their comrades. Even as he won the day, facing cheers from his men, tears touched the hardened general's eyes.

* * *

Honor's eyes shot open, back in the void, with only five doors now. The one he had just entered crumbled, fading into dust that disappeared into the void's endless reaches. Gaster stood before him, saying,

_Our children face the demon's head_

Honor glared at Gaster again.

"What is this! Are you just here to torture me? To make me fight, and never be able to protect them?" He closed his eyes breathing deeply. A test. Gaster had called it a test. But if so, was he failing? Honor didn't think he had control, once he entered the doors. Once he crossed those thresholds, he was someone else. Their decisions were not his. And why wasn't Gaster speaking, except for those cryptic phrases?  _I have to try the other doors._ He decided. He couldn't forget. He was there to find out who he was. He would continue.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Compendium of thoughts from the person who wrote this work (Because "Author's Note" is too mainstream, and I'm running out of ideas): This is a weird one, eh? To answer some questions, no, he isn't seeing through the eyes of the souls that made him up. More about this whole experience will be explained when it's over. Sorry for being late, but I'm juggling a couple writing projects right now. That's not an excuse, just the reason.
> 
> Do you know what? I'll be nice and give you a couple questions to think about regarding this story.
> 
> 1\. What happened to Gaster to get him where he is? What was he like before?
> 
> 2\. Rail builds a structure Asgore recognizes from before the war, but Gaster claims he can be no older than 14 or 15.
> 
> 3\. Both Lith and Rail are too young to have been a part of the army before the monsters were sealed underground. If so, how did they become soldiers, loyal to somebody other than the king?
> 
> 4\. Who really is Sans? He shows himself to be an excellent scientist, and Grillby remembers him being really determined about something, but what? He remarks that he wasn't a soldier.
> 
> Also, so you don't have to go scrolling for it, what you've got so far is this:
> 
> Without stars born
> 
> Without stars left
> 
> Our children face the demon's head

**Author's Note:**

> Author's memorandum (because author's note is too mainstream):
> 
> Undersworn is a written, long-form Undertale alternate universe/alternate timeline story. Please give me any feedback, positive or negative that you can provide. If I'm doing something wrong, I need to know about it in order to fix it. On a lighter note, this story has many inspirations besides Undertale, and if you can catch my (hopefully) subtle homages to them, you get a shoutout! Also, just not that the story will feature Sans, although after the first chapter he is no longer the main character. I'm telling a story here, and you've just seen Gandalf. You haven't seen Frodo yet. In case it needs clarifying, the guy talking to you at the beginning of the story is your narrator for the evening. He's omniscient, omnipresent, questionably reliable, not W.D. Gaster, and enjoys long walks on cosmic beaches. I like to call him the Storyteller. Chapter 2 coming soon.


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